


Miles From Where You Are

by LittlestTrainWreck



Category: Fantastic Four, Marvel, Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012), The Avengers - All Fandoms
Genre: 1940s, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/M, Genderbending, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-13
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2017-11-14 04:14:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/511192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittlestTrainWreck/pseuds/LittlestTrainWreck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You're a tad out of time, Captain." After a battle gone wrong against an unlikely team-up, Stephanie is sent back to the 1940s. While Tony struggles to bring her back, Steph must choose between her home and what could be much more. The worst part is? "I had a date."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Under My Skin

**Author's Note:**

> A couple notes. 
> 
> There's a fair amount of allusions to the music of the area in this piece. A lot of them are ones I enjoy and think fit it, songs I've found in Superhusbands playlists, ect. I suggest you look them up, if nothing else it's nice background noise. Oh, and if anyone is wondering, yes, the bits of Vera Lynn were inspired by George deVallier's Hetalia Vera-Verse. It's how I found her music, sue me. 
> 
> And now for the controversy. Yay. 
> 
> Maddie, why did you choose to genderbend Steve? Well, why not? I just wanted to test out that 1940s flare, the attitude, the women's history that so little people know nothing about. There are different thing that, as a woman, she'd have to deal with, it's just a fact. But don't treat her as a "woman Steve" first. I don't treat "woman" as her lead character trait. She's The Captain first. Not really any different from Steve. 
> 
> I've been working on this piece for a while now, and I have a lot planned for it, and for a collection if it does well. So give me feedback, tell me what you like and don't like, I want to make this a memorable experience!

Stephanie twisted the throttle, picking up speed as she directed her bike off the Brooklyn Bridge, finding herself riding through familiar territory. Beat up behind that diner, in that parking lot, in the back of that alley; the mental count as horrible as it may seem made her smile. It may not have been the exact Brooklyn she remembered, but it was still Brooklyn. Filled with mothers shouting at their sons from apartment windows to be careful playing in the streets, girls playing jump rope on the side walks, carefully avoiding the many pot holes and trash bins, young men and women speaking loudly from diner patios, all with that familiar twang in their voices. Not exactly home, but close enough.

A crisp, early March wind cut through her jacket, but the sun still shined through peaks in the heavy clouds, so all in all, it was a perfect day for riding. Chilly but clean, a welcome break from the miserably cold slosh of February. Glancing up at the sky, Steph watched dark blue clouds loom out over the bay with the promise of rain. She'd better be fast.

Her task of the day was one she'd been working toward for quite some time. A few months back, she'd began trying to locate the family of her old landowners, who'd rented her a small apartment back in the 40s. It was a slow process, with her role as Captain America among other things hindering her from achieving contact quicker. Henry and Betty Harisson were, of course, long gone, but their daughter whom Steph remembered as a lively seven year old, had grown up and had a family of her own. Over 70 years, they never strayed from Brooklyn, and even continued to live in the same apartment building. Even if just for nostalgia purposes, Steph asked if she could stop by to look at her old place, as long as it was okay with the new owners, and to her surprise she'd found that it hadn't been touched since 1943. Odd, but extraordinary.

Turning down a narrow street, the tall rows of apartments blocking the sun and casting long shadows across the block, Stephanie's eyes swept over the bronze numbers on their doors. The street had long since been renovated, updated to the style of modern times, and for a moment she felt lost, until she spotted the tell tale hand prints in the sidewalk concrete, under the initials “S.G.R.” and “J.B.B.” Reading the numbers 942 on the door, she knew this was it. Steph pulled her bike to the side of the road, kicking down the stand and dismounting, finding it difficult in the restricting clothes Pepper had picked up for her. Modern clothes were still a mystery. Women wearing pants was nothing new, but in her day they weren't so... tight. And it wasn't like she was going to wear a skirt on a motorbike. Just another thing to get use to, she supposed.

Making her way up the stone steps to the front door, Steph took note of all the little things that'd changed. The new flower pots, the old railing, the new paint, the old windows. She was so immersed in recalling the building from her memory that she barely noticed when the door opened, until a small voice called into the house. “Daddy! Daddy, someone's at the door!” Standing in front of her was a young girl, probably about 10 years old, the mirror image of a girl she'd known long ago. She looked up at her through a fringe of thick auburn hair, wide brown eyes curious. “What's your name, lady?”

Steph bent down on one knee to speak with her at eye level. “My name's Stephanie. What's yours?”

The girl looked hesitant for a moment, before answering while clinging to the door, halfway hiding her small frame. “Nina.”

Steph flashed her a friendly smile, holding out her hand. “It's very nice to meet you, Nina.”

She looked at the outstretched hang as if it would spring out and attack at any moment, though there was no mistaking her temptation to take it. A middle aged man appeared in the door way, standing behind the girl. The laugh lines around his eyes crinkled the slightest bit as he smiled down at them. “Go on Nina.” The girl's eyes shot up to the man before snapping back to the hand, to Stephanie, and back at the hand. She reached out slowly, then quickly tapped her hand and in a split second was running off into the building, giggles echoing off the narrow walls. The man laughed, deep and hearty in his chest, before extending his own hand. “My daughter. She's a handful, but she keeps me on my toes. Benjamin Thompson, pleased to meet you.”

Rising to her full height, Stephanie took his hand and shook it, brief, firm, but friendly. “Yes, we spoke over the phone. I'm-”

“Please,” Benjamin cut her off as he ushered her inside, “no need to introduce yourself. I know who you are. It's an honour to meet Captain America. You know, my cousin was in that bank during the Alien attack last year, you saved his life.”

Steph smiled bashfully, brushing her hair behind her ears. She'd never get use to this, people acknowledging something she would have done regardless of whether she had the Super Solider Serum. During the war, it was a pat on the back, a drink with her team, and on to the next mission; and oddly that was how she liked it. In her opinion, a real hero did good things and wasn't put on a pedestal. They just did it because it was right. But times had changed, and fame came with the job, so she'd just have to deal with it. No amount of show girl, circus monkey acts she had to endure before actually getting to fight could have prepared her. “Just glad I could help, honestly. And I'm off duty, you can call me Steph.”

“Well, make yourself at home, Steph. My mother's just in the living room, right there on the left. You can settle down in there, I'll go look for the key.” Benjamin pointed her toward the living room before heading off down the hall, calling to who she assumed was his wife about where the key to her apartment was. Making sure her shoes didn't track dirt out of courtesy, Steph made her way toward the living room, finding a quaint little sitting area, well decorated, in which sat an elderly woman watching reruns of “I Love Lucy.”

“Dinah?” She called out tentatively from the door way. The woman turned at her name, smile brightening at finding her company. She stood from her seat, slowly but still strong, to greet her. “I'm not sure if you really remember me, you were so young at the time-”

“How could I forget? You were the best baby sitter I ever had, looked up to you as a big sister. I even remember bringing you band-aids after you rough housed with some of the boys down the street.” Dinah laughed, her voice paper thin, yet still lively. She had to be bordering 80 years old, but it was obvious the spirit had yet to leave her. She embraced Stephanie, who hugged her back, letting the relief of seeing a somewhat familiar face, however much it had changed, settle her. Dinah guided her to the couch, where she sat next to her on the worn, old cushions. “So, how have you been, dearie?”

“Oh, you know, I've kept myself busy.” Steph shrugged, not really going into detail. She didn't have to, it was all over the news. A bit of a violation of privacy if you asked her, but again, another thing to deal with. Her eyes swept over the room, the cellphone left on the coffee table, one of those touch screen tablets on a vacant chair, even the colour TV. “It's a lot to take in.” She found herself saying.

“I know it is, I'm still amazed by what they've come up with these days. Of course, I've had time to get use to it.” Dinah replied.

A one-breath laughed escaped her, head dropping between her shoulders. “Yeah, this is all very new very suddenly. It's not really a bad thing though, fascinating actually, just takes some time to get use to.” She faced Dinah again. “But enough about that, what about you? How were things after I left?”

“It was alright. Daddy died in a car accident in the city just after you left, in 1945 if I remember correctly. It's been a long time, I don't remember him much. Just the little things, like teaching me how to ride a bike. So it was just me and Mum until she remarried in '54.”

Stephanie's face fell. “I'm sorry to hear that.” Henry and Betty had practically adopted her after her mother died when she was a teenager. They gave her cheap rent, and whenever money was tight, were always there with a nice diner at her doorstep. She'd taken care of Dinah whenever they had to be somewhere, like a free babysitter. She'd come to terms with the fact that they were long gone, but hearing that Henry had gone early was disheartening.

“It's alright. Patrick, that's the man Mum married later, was a good stepfather to me. A little awkward, but he was great at magic tricks and made her laugh again.” Dinah looked about ready to launch into a story, which Steph had been plenty eager to hear, when Benjamin appeared in the doorway, dangling a set of keys in his hands.

“Found'em in the cellar in Grandma's old cabinet.” He announced.

Dinah rolled her eyes at her son. “Well, I could have told you that, Benny.

“Then why didn't you?”

“Because you're old, son. You needed the work out.” Dinah laughed, pushing herself off the couch. Steph followed suit, making her way over to the doorway. She took the keys from Benjamin with a quick thank you, before Dinah shooed her up the stairs.

 .-.-.-.-.

Apartment 602 sat on the west corner of the top floor of the building, down a hallway covered in cobwebs and under the light of a flickering bulb. She wished she could say it was so unpleasant due to no one walking through in years, but in all honesty it had been like that even when she lived there. Passing down the hall, she glanced up at the light as she passed underneath. Must be a faulty wire. At the end of the hall, she found the old green door, the white numbers she had painted her on herself faded into the cracked wood. Fumbling with the rusted key for a moment, Steph opened the door with a loud crack, as a lock that hadn't been moved in 70 years snapped open.

The door creaked open, and before she could even step inside, a cloud of dust was stirred. She covered her mouth with her hand, coughing while her other hand waved the air clear. The dust covered everything in a thick coat, preserving the apartment as it had been 70 years ago. It was like stepping into a time capsule, everything just the way she had left it before leaving for her performance tour for the soldiers in Europe. She's had no idea at the time that she'd actually be fighting.

Closing the door slowly behind her, Steph flicked on the lights, which to her surprise still worked. She stepped lightly, as if one wrong move would make the whole place would crumble. Stopping in the living room, she picked up an old picture frame, gingerly wiping the layer of filth covering the photo. James Buckerman Barns grinned back at her, arm slung around a frail young woman. A slow smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she placed it back over the obvious space it left in the dust. Rolling her shoulders back, her eyes swept over the apartment, trying to decide right then and there what she'd do with the place. She was living at Stark Tower, so she really didn't need it... but she supposed she could take some time to decide whether she wanted to keep it or not. So, shedding her jacket for the time being, she got to work on going through her old things, picking out what she wanted to take back with her.

 .-.-.-.-.

She'd underestimated how quickly the approaching storm would roll in. She hadn't even made it to the Brooklyn Bridge before the skies opened up and let loose the heavy rain. She'd had to pull over to the side of the road and take her jacket off to drape it over the cardboard box she carried in her lap so that it would protect its contents. That, of course, left her soaking wet by the time she stepped out of the elevator and into the main living floor of Stark Tower.

A towel was tossed her way, landing on her face before she could even take in her surroundings. She took it off, freeing her vision to find Tony Stark standing before her with that trademark and ever-so present smirk of his. “You're melting, Capsicle.” Balancing the box on her hip, Steph used her free hand to run the towel through her dripping hair. Mug of black coffee in his hand, Tony strode over to her, prodding the box with the screwdriver he produced from his pocket (He always seemed to have some sort of tool on him... whether he knew he had it, or just forgot about it.) “Whatcha got there?” He asked, eyeing it like he could deduce its contents simply by staring hard enough.

Steph set the box down on the coffee table by the wall-to-wall windows, throwing the towel around the back of her neck. “Just some stuff from my old apartment.” She explained, turning around with every intention of heading into the kitchen to grab her own cup of coffee, when a palm-sized Janet Van Dyke, a new recruit along with her partner Hank Pym, appeared hovering before her face, bug-like wings flapping rapidly.

“Like where you lived in the 40s?” She asked before flying toward the box, removing the jacket draped over it to see for herself. “Vintage! Nice!” Inside the box was a cluttered mess of old photos, family heirlooms, books, journals, and a few pieces of clothing she could have “updated”. She'd never had much, but these few things were precious to her.

Returning to her normal height, Janet dropped herself to the floor, sitting cross legged in front of the low table, picking out a shoe box filled with pictures. She handled them carefully, respecting that they were old and fragile, while taking a handful and flipping through them. “Wow, Steph, is this you?” she asked, holding up a picture. Sure enough, a skinny young Stephanie Rogers stood posing for the picture in front of what looked like an open metal pod, standing next to three other people. Peggy Carter stood to her right, hands behind her back and posture perfectly straight, as it always was. To her left, Doctor Abraham Erskine smiled cheekily, one hand on her shoulder, and to his left, Howard Stark, flashing that winning smile that drove the girls crazy. Steph herself looked nervous, but attempted a smile for the press.

“Yeah, that picture was taken right before they gave me the serum. That's Doctor Erskine, Peggy Carter, and that right there is Howard Stark.” She explained, pointing each of them out.

Janet pulled the picture back, holding it right under her nose, eyes wide. “That's Howard Stark? Tony's Dad?”

Tony, who hadn't been paying any attention until he heard his name, walked around the table and behind Janet, looking at the picture over her shoulder. “Yup. That's him.” He confirmed, before leaning in a little closer. He grinned up at Stephanie. “Damn Cap, you were a twig.”

“I think that was the whole point of the experiment, Tony.” Steph rolled her eyes.

It was at this point that Darcy, Jane, and Dr. Selvig, who had become regular guests at the tower when word came that Thor would be coming back to Midgard as he was that night, became interested in the conversation. Darcy leaned forward from her seat on the couch, glancing between Steph and the photo Janet had placed on the table in favour of going through the others.“You know, I've always been curious... no offence or anything, but why didn't they.... you know, chose a guy for the serum?”

“Well,” Steph began, sitting on the arm of the seat opposite her. “the program was originally meant for a man. But Doctor Erskine saw me at the W.A.C Sign Up HQ, how I kept getting rejected but kept going back. After talking to me about volunteering for the trail, he took a few months to adjust the serum to a woman's body.”

“And then you went on to become a Star Show Girl in a national gimmick.” Tony interrupted with a flourish of his hand and a smirk, before his expression changed to one usually followed by an idea. Which in his case, could be a good, or bad thing. With nothing but a hammed up 'evil cackle' he set his coffee mug down and took off down the hall.

Glancing up from another handful of Steph's old photos, Janet quirked a brow. “What was all that about?”

“Something tells me I don't want to know.” Steph answered honestly.

And she really didn't. Twenty minutes later brought Clint, Bruce, Natasha, and Hank up to the penthouse, chatting away with their teammates, friends, and colleagues. The storm grew stronger outside, creating a haze of light cast over the city through the rain and clouds. With every crack of thunder, Steph watched out of the corner of here eyes, Jane glancing toward the window, playing anxiously with her sweater sleaves. The soldier smiled. She liked Jane. She was smart, stood her ground, and easy to get along with. But most of all she made Thor, her friend and teammate, happy. The smile, though, was soon wiped from her face when Tony appeared coming from the same hallway he'd ran off into, carrying a dust old phonograph and a cardboard box balanced on the base. Setting it down, he held up his hand as if to hault all questions, then went about setting it up. Once satisfied it would work, he produced an album from the box, a large square with long faded print, and slipped the record from its case. He set it on the phonograph, placed the needle on it, and after a few blank skipping noises, a grand tune, scratchy and distorted by old recording, began to play.

Steph's face immediately flushed. “No. Please, no.” She begged, hoping her assumption was somehow wrong. But sure enough, the chorus began to sing those god awful lyrics. Tony hummed along with a smug grin.

_“Who's strong and brave here to save the American Way?_   
_Who vows to fight for what is right, night and day?_   
_Who will campaign door to door for America?_   
_Carry the flag shore to shore for America?_   
_From Hoboken to Cashmere?_   
_The Star Spangled Woman is here!”_

Steph dove at the phonograph before the song could continue, quickly shutting it off. Glaring up at Tony through the hair thrown in her face in her lunge, she huffed and straightened herself up once again. She opened her mouth, most likely to call him an Ass, only to find herself bursting into laughter. God, she hated that damn song. Tony soon joined in, more out of relief at not being choked to death by America's Strongest Woman (still totally would have been worth it though.)

“Alright, alright, let's try something else, shall we?” Tony pulled a random record from the box and replaced the previous record with it. Ella Fitzgerald's “I've Got You Under My Skin” began to play, upbeat but easy going. Steph smiled, backing up into her previous seat on the sofa arm rest. She'd never heard this one before, but the style was familiar, one she could understand. She tapped her toes on the floor, making a mental note of the artist and title.

“Well,” Tony interrupted her train of thought. “dance for us, Cap!”

“Oh! Please?” Janet piped up in excitement.

Steph could feel a blush crawl up her neck once again as she averted her eyes to her lap. “Uh... I don't.. really know how.” She admitted. It had been embarrassing enough back in her day, now it was just plain sad.

Clint stood from his place sitting by the bar. “Well, we can't have that, can we?” He hopped off his bar stool and walked around the couch to move the coffee table out of the way. Now with adequate space, he held his hand out to Steph. “I learned when I was a kid. Trust me.”

Steph shrunk back from his hand, before laughing, shaking her head, and taking it, allowing Clint to bring her to her feet. He directed where to put her hands, one in his and one on his shoulder, while he put one on her waist, keeping a firm hold on her hand. He began counting out steps to her, stepping in time with the music. Steph couldn't keep herself from laughing as she watched his feet intently, trying to match without much success. More than once she stepped on her dance partner's feet.

As the second verse came around, Dr. Selvig stood from the sofa and gave a dramatic, bow sweeping bow to Darcy, who gave him her hand and let him twirl her up. Bruce soon followed, offering his hand to Natasha, who ended up leading just to tease him. Tony and Jane, and Hank and Janet joined in, not wanting to miss out. Steph hid her face, both embarrassed beyond belief, and having the time pf her life. With her unable to see, Clint sent a wink at Jane over her shoulder, jerking his head to the side. Seaming to understand while her partner remained oblivious, she separated from Tony just in time for Clint to spin Steph away. They caught each other just as the bass instruments blew their final notes and dropped in unison. Both tried to catch their breaths, eyes locked. Steph was the first to break the silence between them, laughing and smiling so much her face seemed brighter than anyone in the tower had ever seen it. Tony chuckled, eyes never straying from the woman fallen against him.

“Next song!” Janet cheered, diving into the box and taking out the first record her hands came into contact with. Taking a moment to figure out how the phonograph worked, she set the needle on the record, and the soft chords of a new song began to play.

Steph seemed to snap back to reality, stepping back from Tony to get closer to the phonograph. “This is Vera Lynn...” She nearly whispered as if in a trance before repeating louder. “We'll Meet Again. Vera Lynn... she was use to come around and perform for the soldiers. She was Peggy's favourite.” Taking up her seat once again, a glazed look came over her eyes as she let herself become lost in the memories this particular tune brought her.

 .-.-.-.-.

The rest of the night had been relatively calm after that. Thor arrived on the landing pad on the roof, only to come inside dripping wet, but with a hearty greeting for everyone. They sat around, chatted for a while longer, before everyone gradually trickled off into the tower. Now well passed midnight, Steph found herself in the kitchen, clad in a nightgown and robe, fixing herself a cup of hot chocolate to help her sleep. She'd lied in bed for an hour, but sleep seemed to evade her despite the soothing rain gently hitting her window. So, hot chocolate it was. Warm mug in hand, Steph began her journey through the dark halls back to her bedroom, passing a soft glow down a corridor to her right. She frowned, having assumed that everyone had gone to bed at this time, and allowed her curiosity to guide her down the narrow hall.

She soon found herself standing at the doorway of Tony's workshop, having forgotten that it was down that way. But then again, there were so many different passages that it was difficult to remember them all, let alone recognize them in the dark. Steph watched as Tony bustled about the cavernous room, picking up pieces of wire, metal, and the like, dumping them on his desk. He caught her figure in the door as he turned from the table. Tony flashed her a smirk, lifting a pair of goggles from his eyes. “It's past your bed time, old timer.”

Steph shrugged, having long since grown immune to his constant cracks at her 'age'. “Couldn't sleep.

“Well, as long as you're standing there, you might as well make yourself useful. Bring that circuit board over here, will ya? The green metal thing with all the wires on it.”

As much as she wanted to tell him off for talking to her like she was a five year old, she really wouldn't have known what he was talking about unless he'd described it. Looking to her left, she found what she was looking for sitting on a pile of other metal scraps. She picked it up, turned it over a few times in her hands as if to examine it, before crossing the room and placing it on the work bench. Her eyes wandered over the equipment scattered around the room, trying and ultimately failing to even comprehend what their uses were.

“Culture shock, eh Cap?” Tony teased, bringing down his goggles once again, adjusting a few switches on the sides as he went about modifying the circuit board she'd brought to him.

“You could say that.” She answered honestly. “Did Howard teach you how to do all of this?”

Tony's nimble fingers paused in their work, before he resumed as if to cover it. “The basics, yeah. Probably the only time we really spent together. But I pretty much taught myself the rest, built on what he gave me. Pioneered my own way forward. He wasn't exactly father of the year, but he knew what he was doing in the shop.”

Steph leaned back against the desk, far enough away to not be in Tony's way. “Doesn't sound like you two saw eye to eye all that much.”

“You could say that again.” Tony shrugged, eyes never straying from his work.

Crossing her arms over her chest, Steph's attention continued to wander. “It's strange to hear that... I mean, I knew Howard. We were friends, he was a good ally. You know, you really remind me of him sometimes-”

“We are _nothing_ alike.” Tony suddenly snapped, standing straight as he pulled the goggles off his head. His leather gloved hands clenched tightly, his eyes hard, boring into Steph's.

But Stephanie refused to avert her gaze, locked with Tony's, just as strong. She pushed herself off the bench, arms dropping to her sides. “Alright...” She broke the thick silence. “Alright. There are obviously more issues there than I thought. So I apologize. But I didn't know. So don't think for a second that you had any right to react like that, and look at me like I just stabbed you in the back.” She spat, turning on a dime to walk out of the workshop, her pace brisk and cold all together.

Tony didn't move as she left, staring at the spot she once stood. Composure falling with a heavy sigh, his hands unclenched as he spun around. “Steph, wait. I-”

Pausing in the doorway, Steph faced him once again, holding up her hand to silence him, expression soft. “Hey. I get it. Don't worry about it.” She flashed him a small smile, barely visible in the dim light, but there. “Goodnight, Tony.”

Tony watched her leave, making her way down the hall in a flow of light fabric dancing as she walked. He ran his hand through his hair, muttering long after she'd gone. “G'night Steph.”

 

 

 


	2. A Scandal In Latveria

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the title was on purpose. I made a punny. 
> 
> Also, Latveria being a fictional country, I used a combination of Latvian and Romanian for the language.

 

“Say that again.”

That teasing tone in his voice alone was enough to make her stop. Stephanie haulted in mid-step, momentarily putting her trip to the kitchen aside. “What? Why?”

From his place at his desk, leaning back in his chair, feet kicked up on the surface, Tony grinned mischievously, the glow of the holographic screens spread out before him illuminating his face. “Just say it.”

Steph shrugged, clearly not seeing the big deal. “I'll get us some coffee.” And with that, just as it happened thirty seconds ago, Tony nearly snorted in laughter, leaning forward in his seat. Steph rolled her eyes, annoyance building at being kept in the dark. “Alright, what's so funny?”

“It's just the way you said coffee!” Tony chuckled, no doubt enjoying getting a rise out of her.

“What? I didn't say it in any way.” She huffed.

“No, you didn't say coffee, you said 'caw-fee'. Your Brooklyn accent is peeking out there, Cap.”

Steph rolled her eyes in disbelief at this man-child, ignoring him as she turned and headed back toward the kitchen. Down the desolate halls with only the moonlight reflecting off the walls to guide her, she made her way toward the main living area, turning left where the kitchen sat in the corner. She glanced at the time on the stove as she passed. 1:04 a.m. A pretty normal occurrence for her to be up now. She'd probably be up another hour or two before she finally went to bed. Flipping on the coffee maker after a few moments of trying to remember how to start it up, she turned her attention to the windows across the room, looking down over New York City, and let her mind begin to wander.

Roughly three weeks had passed since her trip to her apartment, and her first late night encounter with Tony. Nearly every night since, they'd spend hours into the early morning in his workshop, simply talking. She'd watch while he worked on whatever project he had up his sleeve that night, passing him whatever equipment he needed, while they chatted. He was working on catching her up to modern history and popular culture after the 1940s, taking to slow because, as he claimed, “Once you reach the 80s, it gets scary.” By now he'd had her watch Rear Window, Star Wars, Lord Of the Rings, Dirty Dancing, Dead Poets Society (no particular significance there, he just thought she'd like that movie, and she really did,) Forest Gump, and just about every cheesy, iconic movie he could think of.

Then there was music. They started with music just after the war, familiar but slowly changing. Then it was Elvis Presley, The Beatles, Bee Gees, Arethra Franklin, Michael Jackson, Bob Dylan, Madonna, musical artists that Tony felt made the biggest impacts in their days. It became easier over time for her to at least understand how music changed. That didn't mean she had to really like some of it, but she understood it. There were very few things they could agree on when it came to music; Johnny Cash, The Beatles, and Coldplay for example. While Tony was all ACDC, Black Sabbath, Motorhead, and the greatest hits of 'Mullet Rock', Steph leaned more toward, in modern music anyway, Michael Buble, Colbie Cailet, Josh Groban, and even some country and indie.

History was a bit harder. Steph was generally interested in learning about things like the Cuban Missile Crisis, the tearing down of the Iron Curtain and Berlin Wall, and the Suez Crisis. She read up on the wars in Korea and Vietnam, disappointing actions in her eyes, but she was a soldier, and she understood that war happened. But it was the darkest moments that really got to her, particularly the 9/11 attacks. She read, she mourned, and Tony was always there to explain things she didn't quite understand.

A sudden beeping coming from behind made Steph jump, before realizing it was just the coffee maker. She took the pot out, pouring two mugs and grabbing a handful of creams and sugars with two spoons, realizing she never asked how Tony took his coffee. She made a mental note to remember that, as it would save her a lot of time in the future. Mugs in hand, she made her way back to the lab, where Tony still sat at his desk, feet kicked up just as she had left him. About to place his mug on the desk, her eyes caught a small pile of papers in her way, adorned with pictures of a beautiful old mansion. She set the mug down elsewhere, tilting her head to look at it. “What's this?” She asked.

“Hm? Oh, that. That's the house I grew up in, on the Upper East side. I'm opening it up to my Mom's charity in the fall, gotta get it ready.” Tony said absent mindedly as he toyed around with a holographic image of his suit.

“That's nice.” Steph took a sip of her coffee, glancing over the papers scattered with dates, notes, money figures and the like. Photos ranging in quality and colour sat haphazardly under the papers. “There're a lot of old photos in here...”

Tony laughed, shaking his head. “Yeah, I found those in my Mom's old boxes. She loved photography, always had a camera on her.”

Steph nodded with a simple smile, taking a sip from her mug before continuing. “Upper East side, huh? We made fun of those kids in my neighbourhood. Said they were too afraid to get their hands dirty.” She teased.

“Trust me, that much hasn't changed. Though as I remember, you don't have much room to talk about being the target for Brooklyn kids.”

“Well played, Mr. Stark.” She raised her mug to him in a 'Cheers' motion, and had been about to take another sip, when something caught her eye. She paused, glancing around to find it, unsure of what exactly she was looking for. It'd been just a simple change in her field of vision, something small, probably insignificant, but it got her curious none the less. She shook it off, turning her attention back to Tony.

Her mug fell out of her hand, shattering on the floor, cutting her feet, but she paid it no mind. Stephanie scrambled around the desk to get to Tony, eyes never leaving the lack of light omitting from his chest. “Tony! Tony, shit, are you okay?!”

Tony nearly jumped out of his seat at her sudden outburst. “Jesus, Cap! What the he-” Following her eyes, he looked down at his own chest, finding the absence of his arc reactor's light. “Oh, damn.” He said nonchalantly.

“Tony, what's going on, are you okay?! Will you be okay? Can I help? Tell me what to do.” Stephanie rushed in a panic.

“Steph, Steph!” Tony's voice rose to catch her attention. “Relax. Alright?” He reached up under his shirt, and with a light click, unlocked the arc reactor and took it out, turning it over in his hands. “Just looks like a loose wire... right there, see?” He held the device up to her, pointing out a small copper wire that hung loose from its place. “Will you stop panicking if I let you help fix it?”

“What?” Steph's eyes widened. “Are you sure? That thing keeps you alive Tony, and I don't-”

“It's fine.” Tony chuckled. “Here, si'down.” He gestured to the desktop. Steph hesitantly complied, walking around Tony to lift herself onto the desk, legs dangling over. Tony rolled his chair in front of her, holding out the arc reactor.“So, take those tweezers right there, and use them to pinch the wire... Alright, good, now just move the end into that little hole, right there...” The tip of the wire grazed the metal wall, a sharp buzz cutting through the air. Tony gasped dramatically, causing Steph to jump, until he burst into obnoxious laughter. She smacked his arm, glaring at him before focusing on the arc reactor once again. Stilling her trembling hands, she finally managed to put the wire back in place, eyes darting back and forth between the device in her hands and Tony, until the arc reactor flickered to life, it's light illuminating her face. Tony chuckled, taking the arc reactor out of her hands, lifting his shirt, and putting it back in its rightful home. “See? Good as new.”

Steph laughed in disbelief, doubling over until her forehead rested on Tony's shoulder. Tony's grin widened as he patted her back. “You cussed pretty bad back there, Cap. You better watch out, you might get a Girl Scout badge revoked.”

“Ah, take a hike.” Steph laughed, lazily pushing herself up just enough to be able to look at Tony and- Wow, they were close. For just one moment, her heart race, red heat threatened to crawl up her neck and onto her creamy cheeks, all thoughts were blocked out, and it seemed like Tony was having the same reaction because, wow, they were really close... until Steph snorted in laughter. “You've got coffee in your moustache.”

Tony back in his chair, touching his index finger to his moustache before rubbing the side of his hand over it. “Maybe I was saving it for later.”

“Smooth. Now come on, we're on the 1990's for TV, almost there.”

“Stephanie Rogers, allow me to introduce you to Boy Meets World.”

.-.-.-.

Steph stepped lightly through the opening of the building, back against the wall, shield at her side. The floor crunched beneath her feet, scattered with broken glass. Keen eyes sweeping the area, she motioned behind her for Natasha, Clint, and Janet to enter, moving from her position once they'd filed in in front of her. The laboratory was modest at best, less than what she'd seen of Tony's workshop and others they'd visited. The room was small, the wallpaper chipping and water damage obvious on the ceiling. Tables had been over turned, glass cases broken, papers burned. A stout man stood at the other end of the room by a table turned upright, hovering over a battered laptop.

“Excuse me, sir? Do you speak English?” Steph called out as they entered, Janet buzzing by her shoulder.

“Hm? Oh, uh, yes. Y-You must be the team Mr. Richards sent in his place... The Avengers, yes?” The man stumbled over his words, as if recovering from a great shock.

“That would be us... some of us anyway.” Clint nodded.

Reed Richards had called in early that morning, much to the chargin of the sleeping Avengers (Of course, Steph and Tony had already been up watching Full House.) He and the rest of the Fantastic Four were currently off world to sample an organic energy field they'd detected, and so Dr. Richards had asked if a few members of the team could check out a series of break-ins at top secret facilities in Latveria. In the end, Tony, Bruce, and Hank were all preoccupied with their respective projects, and Thor was needed in Asgard, leaving Natasha, Clint, Janet, and Steph to look into it. Even one of them would have been plenty, but with a situation like this, they'd decided not to chance it. That, and Janet had complained that they hadn't actually done anything in 'forever'.

The man, whose little hair had been combed over a balding spot, shook each of their hands, pausing hesitantly at Janet, who simply reverted to her normal size. “That's perfectly alright. I'm Dr. Smadzenes, I'm the head scientist at V.D Industries.” He led them over to his computer, on which were displayed four different video frames, alternative with different views. “I've pulled up the security tapes from the night of the break in, but they've been tampered with.” He explained as he typed in a time code.

With the team crowding around the screen, they watched as the video began to play. All seemed silent, with occasional shadows passing the windows, until there was a sudden burst. The glass blew inward, the air alive with blue sparks of electricity. A cloaked figure suddenly flew toward the camera, hand outstretched. Within an instant, the stream crashed, the videos displaying nothing but a red flashing “Error” text.

Dr. Smadzenes brushed his hand over his head, tense and frustrated. “I've gone through the video frame by frame, but I can't figure out what-”

“Smadzenes!” Barked a sharp voice from a door adjacent to the exit. A tall, greying man in cooperate dress approached them with heavy footsteps, only stopping once he'd successfully invaded the Doctor's personal space. He began ranting at him in rushed, angry Latverian, barely letting him get a word in edgewise.

The team stood by in confusion, caught off guard by the sudden outburst. Clint leaned toward Natasha, speaking under his breath. “You getting any of this, Nat?”

She shook her head, eyes fixed on their rapidly moving lips. “Only every other word. My Latverian isn't fluent. But it seems we're not exactly welcome here.”

“Well, I could have figured that out.” Janet quipped.

The newcomer, obviously a superior in command to Dr. Smadzenes, suddenly raised his hand as if to strike him. Stephanie's hand shot out, catching his wrist in an iron grip, putting herself between the man and the doctor. “Not on my watch.” She hissed.

The man yanked his hand away, stepping back. He straightened out his pressed suit, eyeing Steph warily. He cleared his throat impatiently, sending a side long glance at Smadzenes. The doctor flinched. “This is Mr. Ēzelis.He is the chairman of the board for this program.”

“It would seem there had been a false alarm.” Ēzelis interrupted, looking down his crooked nose at the team. “Your services aren't needed here.”

Janet frowned, crossing her arms. “False alarm? Take a good look at this place, I think this is beyond-”

“Your services aren't needed here.” Ēzelis snapped. “Now please show yourselves out.” His eyes made a beeline for Steph, who glared at him suspiciously from under her mask. Her grip on her shield tightened, her leather gloves creaking against the straps. Something wasn't right here. There'd obviously been a major break-in, with technology that could potentially be very dangerous missing. So what was he trying to hide?

“You will excuse us then.” Steph nodded politely, though there was no masking the venom in her voice as she turned on her wheel and walked toward the massive gap in the wall through which they'd entered. Stepping out into the sun, the chilly climate of the country cool her skin, calming her irritation.

Clint stepped before her, drawing her attention away from the pale blue sky. “What was all that about, Steph? We can't just leave-”

“We're not.” She affirmed. “But we won't make any progress in there. We have to investigate elsewhere.” Her eyes scanned over the street, deserted as if the people were afraid to be seen. But by who, that was the question. She just had to figure out how to find out.

“That might be a good place to start.” Natasha broke her from her thoughts, pointing at the building across the street. It was nothing but a small clockwork shop, as it appeared from the grand clocks in the window. But on the other side of the glass, sitting in the far corner and facing the street, a small camera clung to the ceiling.

After ten minutes of trying to convince the woman who owned the shop to let them in and view the surveillance with Natasha acting as translator, the team was allowed in, and ushered to a cramped and cluttered office in the back. Clint took up the only chair in the room, typing away at the outdated computer, while Steph and Natasha stood behind him on either side, and Janet shrunk down, standing on the desk to make more room.

“Does anyone remember what the time was on Smadzenes' footage?” He asked as pulled up the live stream.

“2:28 am.” Steph recited from memory without hesitation.

Clint gave her an odd side long glance, to which she just shrugged. Turning back to the screen, he typed in the time code, and began playing the video. Just as they had seen before, the street seemed desolate, trees on the side walk casting long, creeping shadows over the road. Then, too fast for them to properly make out, a figure- no, two figures- shrouded in darkness moved leisurely down the street, stopping in front of the opposite building's window. It shattered inward with sparks of blue electricity dancing in the air, before they both disappeared completely.

Clint frowned, typing in a few more codes until the stream flickered back to the original frame. With the periodic tapping of the right arrow button, he went through the video frame by frame, scanning the screen for any clue as to who they were dealing with. “There.” He stopped at a picture of the figures just before they entered, as one turned to look back at the street.

Janet flew in front of the screen, squinting her eyes. “Is he.... blue?” She asked, pointing out the blue hue to the man's skin.

Natasha moved in closer, bracing her hand on the back of Clint's chair. “That's Kang the Conqueror. He's an enemy of The Fantastic Four. Last time I checked, they had him locked away and his tech destroyed.”

“Well, did anyone really expect him to stay locked up?” Janet quirked an eyebrow. Natasha rolled her eyes.

“Okay,” Steph nodded, “So we know that's Kang. But who's the other fella?”

“Rege!” A young voice called out from behind them. Steph turned around to see a child, a little boy who couldn't be older than seven, pointing at the screen. Before anyone could respond, the shopkeeper appeared behind the boy, her face flashed in fear. She scolded him, her voice a mix of fury and terror as she herded him out, apparently sending him to his room on the next floor. The woman then turned on the team, speaking hurriedly in her native tongue, pointing to them door. Natasha attempted to respond, her Latverian forced, but it was no use. They didn't have the same diplomatic immunity they would on an official SHIELD mission.

Practically thrown out onto the street, they looked back just as the door was slammed shut and bolted. “What the hell was that all about?” Clint turned to Natasha, who frowned in thought.

“The boy said Rege... if I remember correctly, that means King in Latverian.”

Janet flew to her shoulder. “Hey, isn't Victor Von Doom the King of Latveria?”

Clint huffed as together they made their way down the deserted street, toward the Quinjet they'd parked on the outside of town. “So, we've got the Dynamic Duo of Kang The Conqueror, time travelling pain in the ass, and Victor Von Doom, royal psychopath. Perfect.”

.-.-.-.

Tony sauntered through the penthouse level of the Tower; yes, sauntered. Because today was a damn good day, and tonight would be a damn good night. Those sent out on the mission to Latveria had returned just a few hours ago, and although they had a few concerns, there was no immediate danger. Bonus.

He didn't know when he'd grown so accustomed to his late night chats with Steph. When he began insisting on helping her understand the world she now lived in better, when her mere presence and simple input inspired him in his creations, when they both slowly started to unload their baggage. It was a mutual trust that nothing they said would leave that room. She knew about how Howard treated him growing up, and he knew about her liaisons with Peggy Carter. He knew she was Bi (which he had to teach her about, because it wasn't something people talked openly about in those days) and she knew he had a shit ton of issues usually solved by hours of burying himself in his work and a good deal of whiskey. The unloading of this baggage was thrilling, relieving and terrifying all at once, and yet he couldn't get enough.

There was something different about Steph. And yeah, he could say that about alot of girls. Pepper was certainly different. And they had a great relationship, he'd truly fell for her, but in the end it didn't work. They had a good clean breakup, and after a few weeks of 'grieving' they'd mended their relationship as good friends. Pepper would always have a special place in his heart. Yes, she was different from the many other girls he'd “dated,” but Stephanie Rogers was a _different_ kind of different. When he got a little to touchy or moody, she didn't let him get away with it. She didn't shy away, didn't apologize, made him talk through it until they both understood, and at the same time, she knew when to give him his space. He could rant away about technology, and she wouldn't just smile and nod, she'd _listen,_ ask questions. She never really caught on, but she seemed to like the white noise. On the field she was a hardass, but she cared. She was tough, not like “constantly put you down, I don't need anyone” tough, she didn't feel the need to constantly prove it.

“Hey Stark! Anybody home?” Startled by the feeling of knuckles rubbing against his head, Tony swatted the offending hand away and whirled around to find none other than Clint Barton standing behind him with that stupid smug grin plastered over his face.

“What do you want Tweety?”

Clint raised a brow, his arms crossed. “I've been calling you for five minutes. Walked right behind you and you didn't even notice.”

Tony huffed. “And?”

“And....” With a flourish, Clint revealed to thick slips of paper from where he hid them in the crease of his arms, his grin widening. “I'm guessing these aren't for you and Dummy.”

Tony's hands flew to his pockets, his eyebrows drawing together. “When did you...”

Clint felt the papers above his head, squinting at them in the light. “Two tickets for dinner reservations in Central Park. Looks nice. And I'm going to go out on a limb here and say these are for a certain Dame?”

“Alright Chuckles, give'em back.” Bruce rounded the corner, snatching the tickets from behind Clint, passing around him to hand them back to Tony.

“Thanks Bru-”

“But we all know you've got it bad for Stephanie.” Bruce interrupted, the amusement playing at the corner of his eyes.

Clint burst into a jovial laugh, clapping the scientist on the shoulder. “Nice one big guy!”

Tony waved them off easily, turning his back on them to continue his way down the hall. “You're both out of your minds.”

Clint cupped his hands around his mouth, shouting at him as he left. “Whatever you say! But Steph's not in your lab!”

Tony faultered in mid-step. A deep frown crossing his face, he faced his teammates once again. “What?”

“She's out on the balcony.” Bruce answered, his hands in the pockets of his trousers. “She's been out there ever since they got back from Latveria.”

Tony nodded pursing his lips. “Oh...” Shoving the tickets back into his pocket, he took a long sidestep toward them. “Well, I just remembered I have some business in that... general... direction.”

.-.-.-.

The night surrounded her in a still atmosphere, closing in around her as she leaned against the glass barrier. The city sat a thousand feet below, spreading out in a cluster of lights and buildings in the dim moonlight. No star could shine through the light pollution and light cloud cover, but New York seemed to provide the stars from below. High up above the world, the universe could have flipped upside down and she wouldn't know. The only things that existed were the still coolness of the night, the gentle lights, and the long closed files in her hands.

The sound of a door opening behind her was not lost on her senses, though she did not respond right away. A long shadow appeared at her side, the silhouette of carelessly tossed hair and two mugs in hand immediately recognizable. She kept her eyes glued to the city as she spoke. “Started going through the files we have on this Kang character. Found a little more than I bargained for.” She laughed dryly.

“Did you find his college photos? Was he a Chip'N Dale's dancer?” Tony offered as he joined her, mirroring her posture as he passed a warm mug into her hands. She took it gratefully.

“No such luck.” Looking down at the surface of her coffee, she frowned in thought, turning the information over in her head, trying to get a taste for it on her tongue. “Daphne Miller, Rosa Caruso, Gladys Young, Beth Vogel, and Marty Clarkson. Killed In Action November 13th, 1942, just after I disappeared, by one who would later be recorded as Kang The Conqueror. Those were my girls...”

A thick silence drifted between them, realization dawning on Tony. “Oh, jeez Steph...”

“The Banshees they called us. A Special Ops team of the Women's Army Corps lead by yours truly. They sent us in when the boys couldn't handle it. Often met up with Bucky's team, The Howling Commandos. It was on one of those missions that he...” She trailed off, studying her coffee once again. “I got a little inspired to look up the rest of my team after that... Wilma Johnson married a french guy and moved to Paris. Jenny Port took a bullet to the shoulder in '44 and was sent home, died in '70 with seven kids and a farmhouse in Tennessee. Molly Gallagher moved to Canada....” Steph took a deep breath, pausing as if to force the words out. “Peggy Carter... alive and kicking today.”

Tony shook his head is disbelief. “No kiddin'...”

“She's gotta be over 80 by now... guess she's too stubborn to go down just yet. Doesn't say much else about her though. Just that she kept working until her retirement in '84. She must be bored to death.” Steph bit her lip, lifting her gaze out over Manhattan, toward the Atlantic Ocean, as if she could see all the way to England, where she imagined an elderly woman sitting in an outdated living room listening to the songs they could have danced to. “Kinda reminds me of everything I've missed...”

“Hey now, leave the melancholy attitude for a rainy day, Cap.” Tony piped up, slipping the tickets out of his pocket. “How about a night out to get your mind off of all this business? Reservations for an old restaurant in Central Park. I've been there before, they've got the best food in town.”

A faded light returned to Stephanie's eyes as she glanced from the tickets to Tony's hopeful expression. “Yeah... yeah, I think I'd like that.” She offered a small smile, not quite reaching her eyes. Pushing herself off of the glass barrier, she cast her eyes back out to the city. “But right now... I think I'm going to take a walk. Just to clear my head a bit.”

Tony watched her retreating back as he made her way into the penthouse, unable to tear his roots from his spot. As much as he told himself not to be, he was worried about Steph. Sure, he teased her constantly about it, as did the rest of the team, but he knew it must be unfathomably difficult to be force to leave an entire world behind and be shoved head first into a new one. But tonight, he worried for a different reason. One he couldn't quite place his finger on. 


	3. Bells Of New York City

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a shorter dose this time around, but it's a good place to leave off, so to hell with it.
> 
> Quick note on the whole ordeal of using the teams' real names and code names interchangeably; I don't necessarily do that. I use their given names the majority of the time, and only switch to code names when they're “in the office,” and only in dialogue (and even then I might switch dialogue up depending on the mood.) However, if it's a nickname based off of the code name, mostly “Cap” and “Captain” for Stephanie, I'll use it in dialogue in casual settings as well. Just thought I'd make that clear.

The amazing thing about New York City is that no matter how much is changes, it really doesn't at all.

Like the way the temperature drops dramatically in mere minutes once the sun goes down. Stephanie hugged her overcoat tighter around her body against a brisk wind that rolled between buildings. Her nose and ears always felt the cold first, red and frozen, and not for the first time, she reminded herself how much she hated the cold. Bucky had teased her about it while standing on a cliff's edge, waiting the arrival of a pivotal train. Then, she'd laughed and nudged him in the ribs. Now, she just wished she'd brought a scarf and hat.

To be truthful, it wasn't even that cold. A typical March night, but Steph had grown sensitive to the slightest chill.

A hurried driver's wheel dipped into a puddle as it passed, spraying muddy water onto the sidewalk, which Steph was thankfully quick enough to avoid. She watch the offending car speed through a yellow light just ahead, before turning the corner and disappearing. No one seemed to mind. Sure, it was inconvenient, but a true New Yorker doesn't blink an eye at the fast pace of the city, the rowdy vendors, or the constant holler of one person trying to talk over the other.

Stuffing her hands in her coat pockets, Steph passed underneath the light of the street lamps, and the bare trees clinging to their roots under the sidewalk. Her eyes trailed idly from shop windows, to the bickering couple across the street, to the lights strung up on vine covered terraces. All the while, she could feel the glow of Stark Tower burning into her back against the night sky, beckoning her back to warmth and comfort, friends and comrades. But she wasn't ready to go back yet. There was still too much on her mind, only to be cured by the solitude of a crowded street.

Returning to Stark Tower would be the final step. It would mean accepting that this was her life, this was the world she lived in, and she was ready to let go of the past. And as much as she wanted to, she wasn't ready at all. She didn't want to accept that her chance with Peggy was come and gone; it'd been a miniscule chance in the first place, living in an era when two young ladies falling in love and living a happy life together was unheard of, but it was _her_ chance. She didn't want to accept that the dream of visiting a small village in Germany would one day reveal a slightly aged but familiar face, who'd clung to a tree branch and climbed his way down the mountain, into the village, and fallen in love with a local girl, was near impossible now. She didn't want to accept that she could never just be Stephanie Rogers from that rank apartment down the street again.

It was too much, too overwhelming to have all this thrust on her already heavy load, until her legs buckle and her back aches with the pressure. For just a twenty minute walk, she wanted to throw the load into the river and pretend that when she closed her eyes, it was 1945, the war was over, and she could live and love freely.

But that image was ruined when a car rolled past blaring the pounding base of a song by Nicole Mine-age or whatever her name was. Really, when did music become so strong and loud that it shook the very earth beneath her feet? Stephanie shook her head, pulled her coat tighter, and kept walking. Another low, trembling base note disturbed her ear, and just as she expected the rest of the horrible music to follow, she heard nothing.

With her eyes on the grimy pavement, she frowned, replaying the distance sound over in her mind until she realized; that wasn't a note. Her head snapped up as the people around her began to point at the sky and gasp in awe. Following their outstretched fingers, she found a burst of light quickly descending from the sky. Her eyes followed it zoom thousands of feet over her head, turning with it as it fell toward the opposite end of the city.

Quickly forgetting her woes, Steph took off running, her feet slapping the damp sidewalk as she dashed between pedestrians. Her hand flew to the cellphone in her breast pocket, hitting speed dial and bringing it to her ear. “Bruce? Get the team, and start heading toward Time Square. I'll meet you there.”

.-.-.-.

Tony flew ahead of the Quinjet, propelling the suit faster in his haste to find Steph. Bruce's orders from the Captain had been abrupt, with no information on what exactly they were heading into. That wasn't like her. She'd never send them blindly into any situation unless time was of the essence. And needless to say, he didn't like that. That nagging at the back of his mind that had plagued him since she'd left was screaming at him that if something wasn't wrong now, it was going to go down hill fast from here.

His visor scanned the streets below him, searching for anyone matching Steph's image. With a light alarm, he locked onto her running down the street, looking up just in time to see him fly over. “Found'er. I'm going down.” He said into his comm link as he angled his body down and began his descent. Pulling himself upright as his feet touched the ground, he jogged forward a few steps with the momentum.

Steph skidded to a stop before him, gazing into the blue lights of his mask, knowing the familiar eyes were underneath. She paused to catch her breath, before panting with a smirk. “Mr. Stark.”

Though the metallic face plate remained still, Tony grinned beneath it. “Captain.” A forceful gust of wind swept pass with the Quinjet's landing, civilians scattering away as it touched down in the Square. A hatch on its belly lowered with a sharp hiss, bright light spilling out onto the pavement. Tony jerked his head toward the opening. “Your shield's inside.”

With an affirmative nod, Steph turned on her heel and ran into the aircraft, disappearing up the ramp and into the blinding light. She reemerge one minute later with her shield at her side looking alien against her civilian clothing. Thor, Natasha, Clint, Bruce, and Janet followed after her. Once on the side walk, surrounded by her team, Steph began barking orders. “A massive ball of light was just spotted falling over the City toward the East Side. Thor, Janet, you two start flying north, space yourselves a few blocks apart so you cover more space. Clint, take the Quinjet. You and Tony will do the same going South. Nat, Bruce, and I will be on the ground heading toward the river. We're looking for signs of wreckage, panic in the population, or-”

“Um, Captain?” Janet suddenly piped up, her eyes on the buildings behind her.

“Wasp, wait until I'm finished giving orders.”

“Cap, look!” She pointed above their heads. The team followed her finger toward the Baxter Building, where low rumbles of collision and flashes of light shone through the windows of a higher floor. A burst of flame shot through a window, leaving a trail in its wake as it flew over the city and toward the team on the ground. Johnny Storm landed a few feet away, his flame extinguishing as his feet touched the pavement. “Reed saw your jet landing here from the building.” He gasped, obviously out of breath. “We, uh, could kinda use a hand.”

Steph nodded. “We'll be right there.” With that, the Avengers took their assumed positions as was usual. Bruce, Clint, and Natasha ran back to the Quinjet, Thor and Janet took to the air after Johnny, and Tony hooked his arms under Steph's and carried her after the rest. Shooting through the air, ascending higher and higher over the city, they followed Johnny to the opening he'd made when he crashed through the window. Raising her hand to her comm link, Steph quickly assessed the level. “They're on the 38th floor. Leave the Jet on the landing pad on the roof and meet us down there.”   
  
“Got it.” Was Clint's immediate reply.

Ahead of her, Janet zoomed in through the small opening just before Thor slammed Mjolnir into the glass, making the hole big enough to fit himself, Tony, and Steph at the same time. Their feet hit the ground, pausing to take in the situation.

The entire floor, directly from one end of the building to the other, seemed to be nothing but an empty hangar with cavernous ceilings. A lone desk of panels and screens sat in the centre, with a large ring of metal and wires stood on a platform several yards away. A horde of cyborg-like creatures littered the floor, advancing on the Fantastic Four, still in their space suits, fresh from their expedition. Johnny was quick to leave the Avengers in favour of throwing fire at a creature running at his sister's back, while she blasted three away with her force field. Reed threw a stretched arm around one squealing creature and tossed it like a sling shot against the far wall of the hangar, where Ben slammed his fist into its head. All the while, a man with a familiar blue hue to his skin hovered above the chaos, arms crossed over his chest, and a confident smirk plastered on his face.

Tony's right leg slipped back into a ready stance, his hands raising and firing up their weapons with a high pitched whine. “Is that...?”

“Kang.” She finished for him. Steph slipped out of her overcoat, leaving her in jeans and a knitted sweater, without the protection of her suit. Her shield was poised ready at her side, an extension of her body.

Hearing his name, Kang turned toward them without moving his body. “I heard you've been sniffing around where you don't belong, looking for me.” He opened his arms in a grand gesture. “I thought I'd make it easier for you.”

Without missing a beat, the Avengers joined the fray, and as if only now sensing their arrival, the horde turned on them. Janet flew above the battle, her size allowing her to go undetected until she blasted her beams at the creatures, disabling them after several shots. Thor, with his usual mirth of a good battle, swung his hammer with a practices frenzy, his style foreign but effective as he absorbed any shots fired at him and threw them back.

Tossing her shield at and oncoming cyborg and catching it just in time to deflect a blast, Steph crouched down and raised her hand to her ear. “Hawkeye, Black Widow, Banner, where are you?!” She demanded.

“There's another ship on the landing pad, and its surrounded. We can't get down.” Natasha's muffled voice came over the link.

Steph growled under her breath, spinning on her heel to bash a cyborg's head in. “Park it on the next roof over. But drop Bruce off here. We need the Hulk.”   
  
Bruce's distance groan barely came through over the sound of him taking his link out and putting it on the dashboard of the jet. “Just once, I want to be the Behind-The-Scenes Guy.” He muttered. Steph listened closely as she heard him stand, a button pressed, and the hatch open. A wild roar soon followed, the impact of the Hulk landing on the roof sending a tremor through the building and down to their floor.

With that taken care of, Steph turned her attention back to her team. Though vastly outnumbered, they held their own alongside the Fantastic Four, but the cyborg creatures seemed endless in numbers. A voice in the back of her head whispered “cut off one head, and two more shall take its place” but she quickly forced it silent. A blast to her right drew her attention to Tony. While the other creatures seemed to practically throw themselves on the others, as he flew toward them they scattered with screeches of fear. He fired his hand cannons from afar, but had to practically chase them to get close.

But Steph left wondering why that was for later. What mattered now was that the situation was under control, and she had an opening to go after Kang. Bracing her arm, she threw her shield ahead of her to bounce of the back of his head, before sprinting after it. She leaped into the air as if flew back into her hands, poising her fist back to strike, only to be caught off guard as Kang whipped himself around. In an instant, his hand shot out and grabbed her neck.

A strangled gasp escaped her throat as he squeezed, kicking her legs and clawing at his hands. He snarled wickedly. “You're a tad out of time, Captain.” Stephanie struggled against him, but her strength was slowly slipped out of her reach. Her vision tunnelled, her head swam, all noise and feeling grew distant and unreachable.

“Captain!” Tony's voice. An explosion, and she was suddenly released, thrown back. She hit the floor, rolling to a stop, doubling over as she gasped for breath. Her lungs ached for air, but she managed to lift herself up just in time to see a blur of red, gold, and blue fly at Kang, only to be tossed back like a stuffed toy. Tony hit the wall on the far end of the hangar with a deafening bang, sliding down to the ground.

Kang's lips cracked into a leering grin as he surveyed the damage he'd caused, his attention flickering between Steph and Tony, whose eyes met beneath the glowing slits of Tony's mask across the room. His grin widened. Behind him, the metal ring began to spin, the edges spewing blue fire. From the outside growing in, the fire reached toward the centre, spinning until it burst into a dark portal. With a final nod, he turned on his hovering platform, ignored the woman on the ground, and entered the portal. A handful of cyborg creatures ran after him, and as if a plug was pulled, the rest fell to the ground in boneless heaps.

A brief silence passed. Finally able to breathe, Steph pushed herself to her feet with a grunt, her sore muscles protesting. She heaved a sigh, eyes sweeping over the hangar. About to take a step forward, she realized with a shock that she couldn't move. She looked down, heart stopping as the blue fire crawled over body. Her eyes snapped up, wide blues overpowered by the glow surrounding her. And just for a moment it was plain to see; she was terrified.

Tony watched numbly from the other side of the hangar, his eyes locking with Steph's. Her body was lifted into the air, a gravitational pull dragging her toward the portal. Before he knew what was happening, Tony was flying toward her. Time slowed. Her hand reached out toward him, his hand reached for her. And just as it seemed that their fingers grazed, the portal closed, and he was sent skidding to the ground on the other side of the ring. He scrambled up, fighting the panic that contorted his heart when he realized that she was no where to be seen. “Stephanie!” His voice echoed off the hangar walls.

.-.-.-.-.

Tucking her body in the protection of her shield, Steph was thrown through a sheet of glass, tumbling out onto rough pavement. But she had no time to assess her surroundings. A creature latched onto her from the side with an inhuman screech. She lashed out, grabbing it by the back of its neck and slamming it onto the ground. Without looking up, she brought her shield over to deflect the beam of another. She knocked it aside, ripping the gun extension from its arm in a tangle of wires and fluid. Using it to shoot each creature in the heart, she remained still for a beat, waiting for the next blow. It didn't come.

Rising to full hit, the weapon falling from her hand, Steph found herself standing on the corner of 42nd Street and Madison Avenue. But the cars, the music drifting down from open windows, the clothes, everything was the way she had remembered it. Soldiers in their formal uniforms, about to be sent off to Europe or the Pacific stood watching her on the streets in awe, young ladies in their dancing dresses hanging on their arms.

Steph swallowed the lump in her throat, refusing to believe her eyes until she turned around and cast her eyes up, finding the sky empty of the Baxter Building. She whirled around on her heel, head turning every way it could, finally coming to rest on a calender hanging in the window of a shop next door. March 9th, 1945.

Steph ran her hand back through her hair, loosely curled blonde locks falling behind her head. Bystanders stared at her in confusion, from the shield at her side, to her strange clothing. Out of breath, and feeling as if she was being swallowed by the world around her, her mind went back to the shock of waking up 70 years in the future; now 70 years in the past.

The worst part?

She had a date.


	4. The City That Never Sleeps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Symbolism is the shit.

“What the _hell_ was that?!” Tony roared, ripping off his helmet to leave his face exposed, flushed and damp with sweat. Dropping the helmet in a clang that split the brief silence, he stormed toward the console in the centre of the vast hangar, where Reed Richards already hovered. “Did she- Oh shit, was she just-...” He ran his gloved hand back through his wild hair, eyes darting about in absolute panic. “God dammit! The Negative Zone, she'll-”

“Whatever that was, it wasn't the Negative Zone.” Reed quickly interrupted his rambling, calculating eyes flickering over the screens. “The frequency it left is all wrong. Look at the prints,” He pointed to a grouping of equations rolling down the window on the screen, beckoning Tony to join him. Feet clanking against the metallic floor, Tony rushed to the console, bracing his hands on the desk as he followed Reed's finger. “they're completely foreign. No diagnostic we've run has come up with anything close to this. This....” Reed's face lit up as he absorbed the data, “this is brilliant.”

“This is Stephanie's life.” Tony snapped.

Reed's face fell as his eyes met Tony's, the desperation and fear apparent in his eyes. He cleared his throat. “The Negative Zone is a doorway.” He began, his hands following his speech. “That's what it was created for, a gate that we held the key to, leading to one place and one place only. It's a fixed path. But these prints say that it became a spiral, and not just spinning from outside in. Thousands of different directions, trillions even, all clashing and connecting. I can't even begin to understand any of this, it could take decades to decode-”

Tony pushed himself away from the console in frustration, resisting the overwhelming urge to break something.“We don't _have_ decades, Richards!”

Breaking the steadily growing tension, a piercing roar surged through the walls from above, followed by periodic tremors of heavy footfall. Susan Richards, stepping up from where she stood by Johnny and Ben, cast her eyes up to the ceiling before regarding the Avengers. “Should someone go up there and calm the Hulk down?” She asked reluctantly.

Janet shook her head, retuning to her natural height in a blaze of yellow light. “Nah, he'll just pace around up there until he comes out of it himself.” She answered, her hands finding purchase on her hips as she regarded the men at the console. “And just what exactly is this Negative Zone thing?”

Reed hesitated, his eyes flashing to Tony's for clearance, before he stepped out from behind the console. “The Negative Zone is a project Tony and I have been working on for the past few months, based around the theory of a space between space itself. We call it the Negative Zone, and that,” He gestured to the dormant ring. “was designed to allow us to reach it. There was the idea of setting up an inescapable prison for enemies that can't be contained by a normal prison inside it, but the possibilities are endless. We could-” Tony cleared his throat abruptly with a pointed look to keep Reed from going off on a passionate tangent. Reed shrugged apologetically. “The point is, it was tampered with.”

“And now our Captain and dear friend has disappeared within this void.” Thor finished, no stranger to trans-universal travel.

“Exactly.” Tony replied bitterly. “And standing around chatting about our science fair project isn't going to bring her back.”

“Tony, be realistic.” Reed turned to him, pleading. “We all want to find Stephanie, but it's going to take time. I say we all get cleaned up from the fight, get Banner down here, and start working once we're all fixed up.”

Tony's face twitched, the inner struggle apparent to everyone in the room. Finally, he nodded in agreement, and left it at that. With a brisk pace, he walked away from the console, sweeping his helmet off the ground as he passed. The two teams watched his retreating back with baited breath, as if one mere intake of air would set him off into a violent tangent. Out of everyone, he was taking Stephanie's disappearance the worst, and no one questioned why.

 

.-.-.-.

 

The whispers burned her ears, curious eyes boring through her skin. Traffic stopped just to see what the commotion was all about. Steph stood in the middle of the street, surrounded by a steadily growing throng of people, blinded by the harsh rays of car headlights. She squinted, raising her hand to cover her eyes against the glare. A woman to the left was commenting on her strange clothing, the peculiar sweater, the scandalous way her pants clung so tightly to her legs. A man standing to her right studied her face in search of similarities between her and the masked face seen smiling on posters advertising victory bonds, his eyes flickering down to the shield in her hands. Stephanie's eyes followed, an overwhelming sense of panic seizing her racing heart. Captain America was lost in the war, but Stephanie Rogers was plain for the world to see.

Catching sight of police officers closing in on her, pushing through the crowd, Steph backed up two steps, braced her self, and took a running start toward the crowd. They shrunk back, shouting in awe and fear as she vaulted herself high over their heads, somersaulting through the air and landing in a crouch on the other side. Propelling herself forward, she evaded the orders to stop and advancing police, turning into the far end of an alley. Skidding to a stop under a fire escape, she leaped up, grabbed the extending ladder and hauled herself onto the platform. From there, she climbed up the iron stair case to the roof of the building, the metal rattling beneath her swift feet.

Standing on the desolate rooftop, heaving for breath, the wind whipped violently around her. The city stretched out in front of her in a cluster of roofs gradually growing taller and taller toward the main hub, the quiet neighbourhood nestled into the heart of the city. As her eyes darted back down to the crowd below, who looked on in search of her, she debated staying. If the portal reopened and she wasn't there to go through, she could very well be stuck there forever. But as a little boy in the crowd cast his eyes up toward her, tugging on his mother's dress, she knew she had to run. If she was caught, the results could be devastating. What was she suppose to tell them? The truth seemed impossible, even to her, and how was she suppose to lie about ripping apart to strange creatures with Captain America's shield?

So she took to running across the rooftops, masked by the murky night. She flew over the crevasses, letting her mind fall behind as she raced away from the scene. Sirens echoed in the far distance, pushing her to go faster. There was nothing but the wind stinging her face, the harsh slap of cement beneath her feet, the burning in her lungs as she pushed herself faster, Tony's expression of dread before the gold mask flipped over his face, their hands barely grazing-

Losing her focus, Steph lost her balance as she pushed herself off yet another edge, sending her tumbling toward the ground. She reached out blindly, grabbing the first thing her free hand met. Latching on to the ledge of the net building, her body hit the brick wall at full force, and the support of her entire body fell onto her arm, pulling at the muscles with a painful jerk. She hissed, gritted her teeth, and threw her shield over the ledge, freeing her arm to haul herself up. Scrambling onto the safety of an old apartment building, she lay flat on her back and starred up at the overcast sky, the glow of the moon barely fighting through the clouds. She panted for breath, and just for that moment, she wanted to give up. To just lay there until the whole situation was fixed, and she was safe and sound, and didn't have to deal with it anymore. Because she wasn't a hero. She wasn't in a constant state of honour and courage. She was human.

But slowly she regained her senses and pushed herself up, running her hand back through her tangled hair. What was important now was that she kept going. So with a full breath, she stood up, met immediately with the rapidly moving lights of the Brooklyn Bridge. It loomed in the near distance, implacable and beckoning. She'd trekked across Manhattan and hadn't even realized she was heading toward Brooklyn.

 

.-.-.-.

 

This was her neighbourhood. Just the way she remembered it, with scratched painting and improvised toys lying on the sidewalks. With a canopy of trees stretching over the street, filtering the moonlight between their leaves. Steph stepped around a garbage can lid with her shield's emblem painted on the inside, smiling affectionately down at the forgotten tin. Her own shield was pressed to her side, turned inside out so that in the lack of proper light, it could have looked like any other tin lid to a passerby. Her path around the toy led her to step over a pair of hand prints embedded in the sidewalk. Her eyes darted up to the building before her. The brass numbers 942 hung glistening and new on the door.

With her sore arm hanging at her side, she shifted her shield into it to free her good arm. She rapped twice on the door, standing in the glow of the warm porch light. Muffled voices floated through the door, accompanied by the saxophone solo of a jazz tune on the phonograph.

With a light click and the squeaking of unoiled hinges, the motherly face of Betty Harrison appeared in the doorway. The middle aged woman's eyes widened at the sight of her, bringing a sheepish smile to her face. Steph's lips parted to speak, but any greeting she had in mind fell off her tongue as tears began to well up in Betty's eyes, her hand flying to her mouth.

“Um... I'm home.” Steph finally uttered, the word leaving a bittersweet taste.

In a flash, Betty had her pulled into the hallway, her thick arms thrown around her in a crushing embrace. Steph had barely any time to return the hug before Betty held her back at arms length and smacked her shoulder. “Stephanie Gretchin Rogers, two years you've been gone! No calls! No letters! It was all over the news, Captain America was declared Killed In Action! Why, I never-”

“Betty!” Steph held her hands out, holding her shield under her arm. “Trust me when I say you're better off not knowing.” She said honestly, offering an apologetic smile. “Where I was, there was no possible way of contacting you. I'm sorry for worrying you. But I'm... I'm here now.”

Straightening out her dress with a huff, Betty looked up at her through a heavy fringe of unruly black hair. “Well... given you didn't exactly inherit The Luck of the Irish as your mother always said, God rest her soul, I'll let you off. It's good to have you back, darling.” She said as she kissed her cheek and ushered her into the house. “Henry! Dinah! Look who I just found standing on the porch like a stray cat!”

A solemn smile tugged at the corner of Stephanie's lips as she looked upon the scene as if she watched from a distance. And in a way she did. Her mind was left behind miles away.

 

.-.-.-.

 

The mechanical drip and splash of the coffee maker in the corner became the ticking of a clock. As the hours passed in a slow pour of coffee into porcelain mugs, constant refills measuring the hours, Tony's complete attention was focused on the task of analyzing the prints left behind. Cramped on the end of the console, in front of the last screen, he scrolled through endless equations and foreign symbols. His eyes had long ago grown red and dry, staring unblinkingly at the screen, until the equations and foreign symbols meddled together and fell off the page. Shaking his head, he rubbed a tired hand over his eyes, raised his mug to his lips for a sip of cold coffee, and returned to his futile attempts to decode the prints.

Behind him, Reed wrote with a quick hand on a wall of whiteboards, his eyes flickering from the tablet tucked in his arm, and the blue marker in his hands. Occasionally, he'd read over his work, frown, rapidly erase it with the side of his palm, and begin writing something entirely different in an excited frenzy. Watching him from the corner of his eyes, Tony shook his head. Reed always tended to get too far deep into solving the problem, that he forgot why he was solving it. He had good intentions, they just seemed to get lost in his passion for uncharted territory.

Bruce, in ill fitting clothes borrowed from Reed, worked at the console next to Tony, inputting their combined work into a simulator for the ring, focusing on finding any useful deviations. After “de-Hulking” as was the accepted term among the team, he, Natasha, and Clint had finally managed to get into the building, distraught to find that Stephanie had disappeared. The two assassins, along with Janet and Thor, had long ago left to report the incident to SH.I.E.L.D, leaving the three of them to work on the matter at hand.

Tony's eyes flickered to the clock on the monitor. 2:47 a.m. He growled in frustration, glaring at his work. They weren't any closer to reversing whatever the hell had just happened, and they'd been working for hours. He hadn't expected them to decode it overnight, in fact he knew that it was entirely plausible from the beginning that at this point they'd make no progress at all; which is exactly what happened. But the tension of not knowing where Steph was, or if she was even alive, was weighing down on his shoulders like a boulder, the questions constantly dripping onto his forehead, torturous, like the mechanical drip of the coffee machine.

A door from the other end of the room swooshed open, breaking the uneasy silence. All three heads looked up as Sue walked into the room, her eyes sweeping over their work. Coming to a stop beside Reed, she place her hand on his shoulder. “It's late... you're not going to make any progress if you're over tired and exhausted.” She faced Tony and Bruce. “You should all head home, get some rest, and meet back here later today.”

Bruce rolled his shoulders back, grunting as he read a satisfying crack. “She's right.” He sighed. Reed nodded in agreement, snapping the cap onto his marker and setting it down on the tray stretching across the board.   
  
Tony, though, wasn't so ready to break yet. He waved them off, keeping his eyes on his monitor. “You guys go ahead, I'm going to stay.”

Bruce and the Richards exchanged a look, like three adults dealing with a difficult child. “Tony,” Reed stepped up, patting him on the back. “We haven't made any progress in hours. Wasting away for the night isn't going to help Steph-”

“And stopping all together will?” Tony retorted, shrugging away from the familiar gesture.

“No, but it'll leave us with clearer minds to work with tomorrow- er, later today.” Bruce interjected. “The better condition we're all in, the more progress we'll make.”

Feeling as if he was being herded into a corner, an agitated animal surrounded by predators, Tony huffed and pushed himself up, his chair rolling back with the force. “Fine.” He growled, slipping his hand into his pocket to retrieve his custom phone. “But I'm taking this with me.” He lifted the transparent device toward the console monitors, flicking a few keys until a download window came up on both screens. Sending the trio a stubborn glare, he stuffed the phone back into his pocket, and stormed toward the door. Bruce shrugged in apology to their hosts before hurrying out after him.

Shivering immediately at the glacial burst of air as he stepped outside, Tony rubbed his hands together, huffed hot breath on them, and stuffed them in his jacket pockets. Without any further hesitation, he turned and began walking briskly down the street, surrounded by the still bustling city. Some people were going to work with early shifts, some people were just going home, some people were hitting bars, some people simply had no where else to go. Frank Sinatra's phantom voice crooned _“I want to wake up in a city that never sleeps”_ in his ear, but he was quick to force it silent. He didn't need another reminder of what he'd lost.

Not for the first time in his life, Tony envied the everyday citizens of New York, and the world over. Though he watched their eyes flicker up to the top of the Baxter Building, shrinking in the skyline behind him, where a commotion had disturbed them hours earlier, they were completely ignorant of what had happened there.

All he could see was the replay. Stephanie's expression of doubt, confusion, and fear. Her body lifting into the air in an eerie glow, dragging her backwards. Her hand desperately reaching towards his, their hands barely grazing-

“Tony!”

Roughly jerked back by a firm grip on his shoulder, Tony watched as a speeding car flew past him. He found himself standing on the very edge of the sidewalk, the red hand of the pedestrian crossing mocking him from the other side of the street. Looking to the source of the hand still heavy on his shoulder, Bruce flashed an uneasy yet relieved smile, panting for breath. “Tony, I've been calling behind you for five blocks. A little distracted?”

Tony rolled his eyes, shrugging off his hand. “Shut up, Bruce.”

“In all seriousness though,” Bruce let his hand drop, watching as the red hand flashed to a white man walking, “you should be more careful. Getting yourself run over isn't going to help anyone.”

Joining the surge of pedestrians trickling across the street, Tony kept pace beside him, his eyes anywhere but his friend. “Neither is sleep.”

Bruce heaved a heavy sigh as they made it to the other side, turning onto Park Avenue. “But to do it properly, we need to be in our best conditions. I know you think you can go on forever on coffee, red bull, and stubborn determination, but even you'll crash eventually.”

“You don't know that.” Tony mumbled.

“I do, actually.” Bruce was quick to reply. “Before you and Steph started your late night rendezvous-- and yes, I know about that, everyone does-- I'd go into the lab every morning and find you passed out on your desk. You can't deny that when she started forcing you to get some rest that you felt better. We could all see it; you were healthier.”

Tony seemed to soak this in, his eyes trailing along cracked patterns in the pavement. Finally, he lifted his head to the starless sky, resigning himself to the truth. “You know, you're a Jackass when you're right.”

Bruce laughed in that subdued and genuine way of his. “Tony, we're going to find her, regardless. Then you two can be free to flirt at each other from across the room in team meetings.

Tony nearly tripped over himself. He recovered instantly, sending Bruce an accusing glare. “We do not-”

“For a supposed genius, you're an idiot.” Bruce shrugged. “You two flirt shamelessly. Even Director Fury can see it. He thinks it's disgusting, by the way. Mostly because you're so obvious about it.”

“Obvious about what?”

“You've fallen for Captain America.”

Tony instantly scoffed, disguising the flush that came over his face. “You slay me, Banner.”

“Admit it, Tony.”

“I'll admit that I'll feed the Hulk a thousand Pixie Sticks, if you don't knock it off.” Tony fired back with a smirk.

Bruce faultered. Tony could, and probably would do that. The headache it would result in wasn’t worth a bit of teasing. “Alright, I give.” He raised his hands in surrender as they came to the end of Park Avenue, where Stark Tower sat towering over the city. With the swish of automatic doors, they entered the warmth of the lobby. “Why don't we meet back down here at around 9:30? That'll give us plenty of sleep.”

Tony nodded absently. “Sounds like a plan.”

With no other parting than a pleasant wave, Bruce headed off toward the elevators. Tony watched as he disappeared behind the sliding doors, habitually running his hand back through his hair. His eyes swept across the empty lobby, with only the dim glow of the motion sensing light to illuminate it. Yeah, sleep. Easier said than done. Finally forcing himself to move, he walked passed the main elevators and down the hall, his footsteps echoing in the empty floor. Coming upon a private lift connected directly to his lab, he waved his hand before a small monitor, activating a holographic beam that shot out and scanned the arc reactor glowing through his shirt. The only sure-fire key; a one of a kind element. The heavily armed doors swung upon, inviting him inside. “Jarvis?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Start up the coffee pot. And add a shot of Bailey's.”


	5. Ghosts With Just Voices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I live! So sorry for the long delay. I was trying to do NaNoWriMo in November (which didn't exactly work out,) and by the time December hit, I was so swamped with homework that updating was the last thing on my mind. But I figured I could give you a nice New Year's Eve present with a new chapter, so... I don't know, please don't show up with a mob at my doorstep? That would be much appreciated.

  
With her face buried in a book, no one recognized her. Hundreds of pedestrians passed by the solely occupied city bench without a second look at the young woman with her legs drawn up at her side, her elbow against the armrest as she leaned against it. Of course, it wasn't all that surprising- Captain America had sacrificed her life two years ago to save millions of lives, and was now hardly recognizable without the full costume. Still, she was cautious about it. Best not to start a scene about America's Heroine rising from the dead. (It would've been so much easier if they'd let her wear a mask. “We don't want to cover that beautiful face, sweetheart!” They'd told her, completely ignoring how much easier it would have made her life. She had only been a walking advertisement of course, but she was certain they'd have let a man have a mask.)

Turning a page in “A Farewell To Arms,” Steph sighed in finding that the last chapter closed and glanced over the cover, needing a temporary distraction before diving back into the story. This was one of the books she'd missed the most when going through her apartment in her present. She'd had a stack of books on the shelf in her bedroom that had completely vanished. But when returning to her apartment in _this_ present, they were perfectly as she'd left them, besides a few extra creases in the binding from when Betty would borrow one. She'd brushed it off, figuring something had happened during her 70 year disappearance. Still, nothing would compare to the first volumes she'd owned.

Pushing that thought aside, Stephanie glanced up and surveyed the street. Still nothing. Not a thing out of place or out of the ordinary. She'd been sitting on that bench for two weeks, nearly everyday, waiting for the portal to open again and battling with the inner demons saying it never would. Even worse were the demons saying she didn't _want_ to go back. _  
_

Heaving a heavy sigh laced with frustration, she closed the book and stuffed it into the purse at her side, stringing it over her shoulder as she stood. Possibilities whirred around in her head, the long-ago memorized restaurants of the area scrolling before her in a list. Growing sick of the constant take out she ate on her vigilant watch, she debated calling it a day and heading back to Brooklyn for a home-made dinner.

As that possibility hung in the air, her attention was drawn suddenly and unexpectedly to a group of finely dressed young men across the street, walking in a group, laughing and hollering and whistling at girls as they passed. It was one voice that stood out among the bustling traffic and buzz of speech.

Howard Stark nudged his elbow against a pal of his, his smile charming. His fine quality tweed suit hung on his body in the era's fashion, and he knew it all too well. He looked like he hadn't changed a day since the last time she'd seen him, all brilliant ideas and flirtatious winks to both her and Peggy. This was the Howard she remembered. Steph watched as he passed, unable to tear her eyes away, until she managed to snap herself out of it. A hot knot formed in her stomach as her own memories of the man, and the facts of what he had become in treating Tony collided.

Without second thought, Stephanie straightened out her dull red day dress and marched across the street, a true New Yorker in the way she commanded traffic to stop for her without a single look. Eyes narrowing on her target, her brisk pace brought her behind the group of rowdy young man. “Stark!” She snapped.

The group parted to allow the sudden intruder access to Howard as he turned around, completely unaware of the first heading toward his head. Steph struck out, decking the genius across the jaw with a force unexpected of a young woman. Howard reeled back, clutching his face, the sharp sound of the blow ringing in his ears. His friends merely laughed and shrugged it off. Women striking at Stark wasn't exactly a rare occurrence given his reputation with the Ladies.

Standing to full height again, though he somewhat shrunk back from his assailant, Howard rubbed his jaw. “Dumb Broad! What'd I do?”

Stephanie huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “It's not what you did, it's what you will do!” She responded in a moment of childishness. Howard always tended to bring that out of her.

Howard's eyes flicked up to glare at the woman, at first set on recalling who she was and how many times he'd stood her up. Upon finding that unforgettable face, locked in his memories as the world slowly forgot, his eyes widened, his hand slowly falling to his side. “Steph?”

Stephanie swiped her fingers across her throat in a repeated motion, subtly jerking her head toward the group staring at them. Howard flashed his friends his charismatic smile as he reached out and took her wrist. “'Scuse me, fellas. Gotta sort something out.” He said before tugged Steph behind him, whisking her around the corner and into a secluded alley way.

Once hidden, Steph yanked her hand out of his grasp, about to open her mouth when Howard suddenly threw himself at her, halting all words she'd had on the tip of her tongue. Locked in a tight embrace, Steph reached up and awkwardly patted his back. She hadn't expected such a reaction. Of course, they'd grown to be close friends, but he'd never been all that 'touchy-feely' despite his constant offers for fondue.

She'd been so stuck in her moment of reverie that she hadn't noticed he'd pulled her back at arms length and started bombarding her with questions. “...can't believe this! How did you survive the crash? I mean, I heard the broadcast! You got _bagged_! How did you get here? Where've you been? We wanted to start looking for you, but it's too dangerous to use subs until the war's over, and-”

“Howard, I- ugh, Howard!” She interrupted, trying to get his attention. She paused, making sure he was listening. “I'm not the _right_ Stephanie.”

Howard frowned. “What-”

“Just listen, alright? And I'm telling you this because I trust you, knucklehead. So don't go blabbing about it to everyone, got it?” Receiving a stunned-silent nod from Howard, she took a moment to search for the right words. “When Hydra's plane crashed, as I'm told, it plunged into the Arctic and froze me within a minute. So somehow, with the aid of the serum, I remained in some kind of coma for 70 years. When I was found, I woke up... and well, long story short, I was accidentally sent back.”

“...You really took a fall on your head, didn't you?”

Steph groaned in frustration. Of course he didn't believe her. Why would he? It sounded insane even to her. But it was the truth nonetheless, and having him understand what was going on could help her. She had to make him believe her. An idea crossed her mind. “I'll prove it. “ She insisted, reaching into the purse at her side. Shifting past her book, a bit of cash, and a napkin, her fingers brushed against something cool and metallic. In one fluid motion, she pulled out a rectangular piece of metal, it's edges rounded and black surface glistening, and held it out before her.

Howard frowned at the dark surface. “Okay. A slab of metal.”

Quirking her brow, Steph pressed a button at the top, under her finger. The 'slab of metal' flashed to life, it's screen bright in the shadowed ally. With her free hand, Steph swiped her finger along the surface, bringing up a menu of coloured boxes which she, again, used her finger to browse through. Howard's bruising jaw dropped. “This is a phone in the 21st century. It was in my pocket when I was sent back, and I've kept it off to save battery, just in case I needed it. Like right now.”

Reaching out, Howard grabbed the device from her hands, turning it over every way he could before imitating what she had done and using his finger to navigate the screen. “This- this is impossible! This is incredible! Steph, you have to let me take a look inside-”

“Absolutely not.” Steph snatched the phone and replaced it in her purse. “I probably shouldn't have shown you as it is. I don't want to mess with time.” She insisted before looking him firmly in the eyes. “So. Do you believe me now, or what?”

Howard hesitated. “My gut is telling me yes.” He flashed her his usual smile, it's charm lost on her. “What do you say you let me take you out to lunch?”

.-.-.-.-.

If Reed Richards had bothered to keep a scientific log for the past two weeks, which he probably should have now that he thought about it, it would sound something like this;

_Day 1: Nothing_

_Day 2: Absolutely nothing_

_Day 3: Managed to crack one line of binary; it's worth nothing_

_Day 4: If Tony breaks throws one more thing in a fit, he's paying for it._

_Day 5: Tony owes me a new bypass system; still nothing._

And so on for two weeks. Stalemates like this drove him absolutely insane, and if they had this effect on him, he didn't want to imagine what Tony's mind looked like at the moment. Reed pushed the though aside, shaking his head and raising a mug of hot coffee to his lips as he reviewed the security tapes of the fight for anything that would give them a clue as to what Kang did. Behind him, Bruce worked at the monitors, calm and collected as ever, though even Reed could tell he was troubled by the whole situation. Clint, having tagged along for something to do that day, leaned against the opposite side of the monitor table, staring out the window in boredom, his back turned to the room.

“Any ideas, bud?” Tony's voice passed behind him in a never-ending cycle of passing as he spoke into his cellphone to Hank Pym.

“Sorry Tony, but without the data in front of me, I've got nothing.”

“Great. Perfect.” Tony rubbed a tired hand over his face. “How long are you going to be in Wakanda for again?”

“A few weeks at least, but if you haven't cracked it before I'm back, I'll give it a shot.”

Tony seemed to cringe at the idea of taking so long, but managed to ignore it. “Right, thanks anyway.” He pulled the cell away from his ear without waiting for a goodbye, shoving it into his pocket. He stilled in his pacing, glaring at the floor, before lifting his gaze to the loop of security tapes, watching the moment Steph fell through the portal with haunted eyes.

Through his reflection on the screen, Reed could tell he was mentally calculating how much faster he could have gone to catch her.

Tony's eyes suddenly narrowed. Before Reed had time to open his mouth to voice his confusion, Tony he pushed his rolling chair out of the way, sending him crashing into a filing cabinet. “Tony, what-”

“Shh!” The billionaire was already typing rapidly, enhancing the image and zooming in on the Negative Zone portal. He hit replay on a selected clip from the beginning of the battle, watching intently as a shimmering glow appeared next to the metal ring. In a flickering moment, a creature became visible, before snapping out of view. Tony went back and froze the frame at the exact moment it appeared, his eyes widening as he saw said creature in the process of tearing off a panel from the portal.

Scrambling away from the desk, Tony sprinted toward the Negative Zone portal, finally catching Clint's attention. “Hey Boss, what are you-”

The sharp snap of metal as Tony pried a panel off the ring cut him short. The panel fell to the ground in an echoing clatter, drowning out the sound of Reed's protesting. He plunged his hand into the circuitry, pulling out a block of metal and blinking lights, a single plug protruding from the bottom. Tony stared at it in awe, turning it over in his hands, his face slowly lighting up. “The prints are written in Latverian.” He tossed it leisurely in the air and caught it, turning a hopeful grin toward his colleagues. “I think we found our missing tech, boys.

_.-.-.-.-.-.-._

“And we've all been living in Stark Tower ever since.” Steph concluded her tale, piercing her fork into another piece of penne and bringing it up to her mouth. She and Howard were seated at a table adjacent to the window of an Italian restaurant across the street from Madison and 42nd. The joint was empty, save for a few wait-staff mingling in the back, waiting for more costumers.

Howard sat back in his chair, releasing a low breath as the sunlight streaming through the window caught the glare on their plates. His eyes fixed themselves on the reflection, before he leaned forward again, elbows against the table as he ran his hands over his face. “Wow. That's... that sure is something.” He stared, finally meeting Stephanie's eyes, baby blues catching the same glare on the silverware. “So, if you survived to 70 years in the future... do we-”

“We win.” Steph nodded, setting her fork down. “Though I don't approve of the final method, and your involvement in it.” Her brows furrowed when Howard feigned confusion and innocence. “I know about the Manhattan Project.”

Howard remained silent, dropping his eyes once again. “Well... what are you going to do now that you're back? Get a job? Go back to the war?” He took a sip of his coke, letting the tension of the last subject fall from his shoulders. “What's the Star Spangled Dame's plan?”

Steph's face slowly fell, the question dawning on her. “I haven't really thought about that. I just assumed I'd get back somehow.”

“Steph, what about Peggy? She-”

“Howard.” Stepanie snapped, her breath hitching in her chest.

Howard frowned. “But... Steph, you're home.”

The words hit like a dagger, like a shock straight through her spine. She was, wasn't she? She'd felt so homesick, so out of time, so different in the present she survived to. There were times when she dreamed of this opportunity, knowing it would never happen, and it killed her. This was her New York, her time, so why did that feeling of belonging change? It really didn't take a genius to figure out; Tony had changed her. He showed her the world and healed her long scarred wounds without even realizing it. Tony, and everyone at the tower, had played a part in helping her adjust to the modern world, and soon, without her even seeing, it began to feel like-

An unearthly noise pierced through the air, like a hurricane trapped in a tin can. Both occupants of the table froze, their ears straining to take hold of the source of the sound. Within a second, Stephanie was on her feet, grabbing her purse off the back of her chair and bolting out the door. Howard shot to his feet to follow, reaching into his pocket and slamming a twenty on the table before rushing out. They burst through the door of the restaurant, one after the other, skidding to a stop to find absolutely nothing. No signs of danger, no holes in the sky, no Nazis or Axis Powers, absolutely nothing. But the noise persisted. Pedestrians passed by. casting their eyes around, searching for the sound, before shaking it off and continuing on their ways.

Howard gritted his teeth, his eyes darting above. “What the-”

“Hang on, I think I've got a hunch.” Steph grabbing Howard's wrist, tugging him behind her as she sprinted across the street to the building she'd been watching for two weeks, the glass of the windows still shattered.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.

“You're just having the time of your life, aren'tcha Richards?” Tony threw over his shoulder from where he worked on the panel, piecing the stolen box back in place while plugging in various cords to connect it to the consoled where Reed and Bruce worked. Reed looked up from his screen, his gleeful smile at finally making progress never fading.

“Just happy to get working.”

“Yeah, yeah, you just love your science fair projects.” Tony retorted with a teasing smirk, flinching back as a shower of sparks burst from the panel. “That should just about do it. How's it looking over there?”

“We've got readings.” Bruce called back, his eyes never leaving his monitor.

Tony nodded, his heart racing in his chest as he shoved the panel covering back into place. Giving it one extra tap in for good luck, he jogged over to a three foot lever anchored into the ground, fixed to a semicircle of rapidly changing lights in metal casing. He gripped it with both hands, squeezing the safety brake. Taking a deep breath, and praying to any God that would listen for it to work, Tony leaned all of his weight back on the lever, pulling it toward him with great effort. The closer the lever got, the more energy was sent into the ring. Lights flashed, the machine protested, but sure enough, a blue hue began to materialize in the empty space.

Tony looked to Clint, who stood a few feet back from the portal as a precaution, staring into the void; if anyone could find something within the light, it was him. “Hey, Legolas!” He called out over the drone of the void. “What do your elf eyes see?”

Ignoring his comment, Clint's eyes narrowed, flickering swiftly as he searched the dull light of the portal for any image. Tony watched as his shoulders tensed and his knees locked in surprise, before the faint hint of what he could see of a smile appeared in his jaw from behind. “Well hey there, darlin'! Come here often?”

Locking the lever into place, Tony scrambled toward the portal, body promptly checking Clint out of the way. The image began to clear, swirling and pulsing until the blue light gave away to Stephanie, safe and sound, her eyes lighting up as she saw him too. The dim lighting of the seemingly abandoned building she stood in left only the glow of the portal to illuminate her face.“Shit, Steph! Are you okay? What happened? Where are you?... Is that my Dad?” Howard stood behind her, his eyes wide in disbelief at the portal opened in front of him.

A relieved laugh bubbled from Stephanie's throat, a breathtaking smile blossoming on her face. “Tony... I'm in 1945!” She laughed. “The portal spit me out here, and I ran into Howard. I'm fine.”

Tony grinned, his heart thundering in his chest at the mere sight of her. “Well, ain't a small world. Now, come on, step thr-”

“Tony.” Bruce called his attention from behind the consoles, his face betraying his guilt and disappointment. “She can't. The portal's too unstable, we still don't have half of the variables we need to establish a complete connection. If she touched it, she could be ripped to shreds inside the void.”

Tony wheeled on him, his face turning red. “Well what the hell do we still need?!”

Reed sighed, rubbing his fingers against his temples. “There are a million different things we'd need, but it's as if literally half of the connection is gone. Tony... we're looking at it right now. It's impossible.”

“What the fuck do you mean, impossible?!”

“Tony?” Steph shouted into the portal, dread settling on her features. “What's going on? We can't hear what they're saying.”

Tony's attention snapped back to the portal, and Stephanie's flickering image. His eyes spoke volumes, brimming with fear and panic, slowly melting into a hesitant resignation. Their eyes met, and before Tony even opened his mouth, Steph understood, lips parting in a shuddering intake of breath. “Steph... we can't get you back.”

Steph broke the gaze, her jaw clenching with the effort to keep herself together. She released the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. When she chanced to look back up, she swore her heart stopped out of pure refusal to beat. “So... this is goodbye?”

Tony rubbed the back of his neck. “Looks like it. What are you doing to do?”

“Oh, I'll manage somehow.” Steph shrugged. “What about you?”

Tony's hand dropped to his side. “I'll stick with the Avengers. Keep the company going. Work in the lab.”

“All on your own?”

Tony forced a flirtatious smirk. “Just like I always do, dollface.”

Despite everything, Steph genuinely laughed, her eyes watering in her effort not to break down.

Bruce stepped forward, catching Tony's attention. “There's not much time left, the stabilizers are overheating.”

Tony's eyes snapped to capture Steph's in a gaze neither could break from. His chest heaved with quickened breath, and for the first time, Steph saw Tony held together at the seams, panicking as he fell apart. “Listen, Steph, I-”

A shower of sparks burst from the inner rings of the portal. Tony raised his arms to shield his face, flinching as they singed his skin. When the sparks faded, and he lowered his arms, she was gone. That was it. Just gone. Gone where he'd never be able to reach her.

In a fit of blind rage, Tony swept a wrench off the floor at her feet and threw it across the hanger with an furious roar, echoing with the clang of metal hitting the floor and sliding into the wall. Panting for breath, frozen in mid movement, he sunk to his knees before the portal that had rendered him so powerless. When he finally lifted his head nearly an hour later, the fading dusk had turned to night, and he was alone.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.

The portal shrunk into nothing before her eyes. Steph threw her arm out in a silent plea to stop the connection from disappearing, but was left with her hand stretched out to nothing. Her hands rose to cover her mouth, elbows tucked in close. Before she could stop it, a dry sob wretched its way from her throat, tears she fought to keep back slipping through her barriers.

“Stephanie...” Howard reached out to lay a hand on his shoulder in comfort, “I-”

“Don't.” She snapped, pulling away from his hand. She kept her back turned to him, her shoulders quivering with the effort not to cry; because damnit, Captain American _does not cry._ “I'm sorry.” She whispered moments later. “I just...” Unable to hold back any long, Steph turned on her heel and ran out of the building, the door's unused hinges squealing in protest as it was slammed behind her.

Howard remained still, listening as someone began throwing garbage cans and scrap metal at the walls of the building in the alley beside it, each hit on the brick wall separating them thundering inside the cavernous, empty room. He krept outside when the violent noise stopped, opening the door and peering around the corner to find Stephanie sitting in the shadows on the grimy concrete, surrounded by a mess of trash. Her legs curled into herself as she leaned back against the brick, her face buried in her knees and her arms wrapped around them. Her shoulders hitched and shuddered with muffled cries of frustration. Rubbing his hand on the back of his neck, much like the man through the portal had done earlier, Howard stuffed his other hand in his pocket, turned, and joined the crowds passing along the sidewalks.

Stephanie Rogers was the toughest gal he knew; but even she needed to be alone.

 _.-.-.-.-.-.-._  
  
“Over In Killarney,  
Many years ago,  
My Mother sang a song to me  
In tones so sweet and low;  
 _Just a simple little ditty,_  
 _In her good old Irish way,_  
 _And I'd give the world to hear her sing  
_ _That song of hers today.”_

“ _That's a nice little tune.”_

_In the ever-dim light of the lab, Stephanie's eyes snapped up from the book in her hands, glistening and vibrant. She swayed idly in her chair, rolling back and forth in front of Tony's desk, but haulted all movement when said man commented on the melody she'd been humming. “Oh,” She started as she closed the novel and placed it on her lap, the eye of George Orwell's 'Big Brother' staring up at her from the cover, “thanks. My Mum used to sing it to me, whenever she was working or reading.” She shrugged sheepishly. “I guess I just picked up the habit.”_

_Tony likewise turned away from his computer screen, his eyes flickering toward the large glass windows opposite the room of them. “An Irish thing?”_

_Steph rolled her eyes in good humour. “How'd you guess?”_

“ _I mean it though,” He shrugged, leaning forward on his elbows. “It's nice. I mean, that your Mom did that for you”_

 _Stephanie cocked her head, mirroring his position as she leaned on the desk “Yours didn't?” The idea seemed alien. She'd grown up in a world where sometimes a lullaby was all a mother could offer her child._  
  
“Nah, it wasn't really her thing. She never really had time, anyway. She was always out with my Dad or doing work with her Charity. Great woman, just very busy. She tried to make time though. More than I can say for him.” Tony explained indifferently.

“ _Him?”_

“ _Howard.”_

“ _Oh.”_

“ _What about your Dad?” Tony asked conversationally._

_Steph frowned, staring out the window as she raked her memory for an answer. “I don't remember Daddy all that much. He died when I was a little girl, and then it was just me and Mum. He was strict, very Catholic, I remember that. Had far too much to drink sometimes, and he had a terrible temper, but pretty much everyone did in those days.” She paused, a fond smile tugging at her lips. “But I remember sitting on his lap by the fire, while he smoked his pipe and told me about Ireland. About growing up with his brothers- I never knew my Uncles, they stayed in Killarney- and how they use to fight dragons and monsters, and save beautiful princesses like Mum. I loved the smell of that pipe tobacco.” She added wistfully._

“ _My Dad smoked cigars.” Tony mentioned as he downed the rest of his coffee. He set the mug on the desk, staring at the empty ceramic. “He'd light one up in his workshop while I studied. Always the same thing, 'Do your homework, and work on memorizing the Arc Reactor blueprints. Then_ _ **maybe** you can play with that pile of junk.'” He spoke with a mocking impression, his voice deep and rough as he gestured to DUM-E, who perked up with a whining whir at the other end of the lab._

_Steph watched as the robot turned away dejectedly. “He called DUM-E a pile of junk?”  
_

“ _Scrap Metal, the Aftermath of a Car Wreck, Waste of Wiring. Even after he got me into MIT.” Tony nodded, generally unaffected by the recitation. It was old news now, though a seventeen year old Anthony flinched at every word._

“ _But he's amazing. Tony, and don't let this get to your ego inflated head..... but everything you've built here is amazing.”_

“ _Try telling_ _ **him** that.”_

_A long silence cut through the light conversation, its weight shifting. Tony turned away from the table, avoiding eye contact with Steph. She, however, refused to budge just yet, searching his face for any detectable emotion; disappointment, anger, regret, resignation, even embarrassment. She was beginning to learn that Tony, as hard as he tried otherwise, wore his heart on his sleeve and his emotions plain to read on his face as an open book. Still, just because she could read the words didn't mean she knew what to do about them. She could diffuse a tense situation, sort out any quarrel; but that was all diplomatic. That was Captain America speaking, a leader. This was Stephanie Rogers, a woman who had no clue what to say to a man with unresolved father issues._

_So, she said nothing. Watching Tony for a few moments longer, she concluded that he was finished with the conversation, and since there was no real reason to push it, she left it alone. Her eyes drifted down to the book in her lap, her fingers found her mark, and she began to read as if it had never happened, wishing she had decked Howard while she still could have._

_It wasn't until five minutes later that Tony broke the thick silence. “... Y'know, I really do like that song.”_

_Steph smiled despite herself._

“ _Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li,_  
 _Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Hush now don't you cry_  
 _Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li,_  
 _Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, That's an Irish lullaby...”_

Steph's eyes snapped open as the last haunting tones of the lullaby echoed in her ears, her own voice ringing in the silence. Finding nothing but a blank ceiling above her, she yawned and stretched her arms over her head, her toes curling under the sheets. She pushed herself up, tossed the blankets to the side, and swung her legs over the edge. Her feet touched the cold hardwood reluctantly, settling as she stood and headed toward the door. She navigated without thought though the halls, the back of her hand rubbing over her tired eyes. The dim glow ahead drew her forward like a familiar beacon.

“Tony, what-” Letting her hand drop from her eyes, the Workshop she had expected to see disappeared. She stood in the doorway of her small apartment living room, the glow nothing but a flickering, black and white television screen. Her chest tightened painfully, forcing her awake. For the first time, she truly realized she could never return to what she now realized she thought of as **home**.


	6. Lamplight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'd like to have some grand excuse as to why this chapter took so long to write, but I have none. Just school, writer's block, and just plain laziness. Frankly, I just lost interesting in this story for a long time, but I feel like I've gotten back in the swing of things. So, yeah, here you go.
> 
> Also, if you get the Vera Lynn reference, you get a cookie (a cookie meaning intellectual satisfaction.)

 

It was raining. More specifically, over a Brooklyn neighborhood, where rubber balls and skipping ropes were left on the sidewalks to be picked up later, and the cramped buildings didn't block out the sun over the street. The sky opened up with sparse, dark rainclouds. No wind blew to move them, or deter the path of the rain cascading onto the pavement. Breaks of evening sun peaked through over the city, stretching out over the rooftops.

It was raining again, just like an afternoon a month in the past and70 years in the future when this was a different neighborhood, and all she had to think about was visiting her old apartment. She wanted some nostalgia. She just got more than she bargained for.

Stephanie sat on the porch swing in front of the Harisson building, sheltered from the rain by a shabby terrace. Her bare feet grazed the rough concrete porch as she leaned back into worn seat cushion, staring unseeingly out into the lamplit street. Soaked from head to toe from getting caught in the rain, her pale red dress clung to her body, stained with the grime of collapsing in the alley hours earlier. She hadn't gone inside since she got back, though she'd caught Betty peaking through the curtains in the window behind her from the corner of her eyes. She must've known to leave her alone.

While she knew that by the morning she'd be pulling on a brave face and moving on with her life as she always did, she couldn't push away the surreal numbness that surrounded her. Like she felt heavy in her own skin. She tried to tell herself it would do no good to sulk, that she had to carry on. It wasn't the end of the world.

Maybe the end of one.

“Stephy?”

Snapping out of her daze, Stephanie looked down at her side to find Dinah, tiny hands resting on the damp cushion on the porch swing. Steph tucked a strand of dripping hair behind her ear as she offered a smile. “Yeah, Dee?”

Dinah frowned, scrambling up onto the seat. It creaked and swung with the added weight before Steph gathered the girl onto her lap. “Ma says you're upset about something.”

Steph shrugged, one arm around her shoulders and the other playing with her brown downy hair. “Everyone gets upset sometimes.”

“Even you?”

“Even me.”

“What about?” Dinah asked, staring up at her with wide brown eyes.

The corner of Steph's lip twitched in a smile. She looked so much like her future granddaughter. “I just miss some people I'm not going to be able to see anymore.” She answered simply.

“Why can't you see them anymore?”

“It's... complicated.”

“Well, you shouldn't be sad.” Dinah said in childlike sincerity, nodding to herself like it was the best advice anyone had ever given anyone. “Because you're the one who always said when you miss people it's because they had a big influence on your life, and just because they're gone, doesn't mean it never happened. Like when Bucky disappeared, and you wrote that letter to me. I was sad, because he wouldn't be able to take us to Coney Island anymore, but I remembered that you said that and it helped a lot.”

Steph laughed, squeezing the girl in her arms until she squealed and giggled. “I did say that, didn't I?” She sighed, smiling down at Dinah, who beamed up at her. “I guess I was right...”

 

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

 

It was a clear and beautiful night, and Tony hated it. Thankfully, in the penthouse towering above the city, he could distance himself from it. It was too... normal down there. The universe felt different, heavier, and the ignorance of the rest of the world just didn't cut it with him. The air had a bitter taste; or maybe that was just the whiskey. Bottle clinking against glass, glass clinking against ice, Tony poured himself another Manhattan, trying not to think of the irony. Manhattan was, in some ways, what brought him the pain and how he was using it to try to forget.

Damn, he got poetic when he was drunk.

Raising the cold glass to his lips, Tony let the liquid run down his throat and burn him from the inside out. He set the glass back onto the counter of his bar, staring from the wall to the window and the city beyond, so oblivious and peaceful below. Or as peaceful as New York could get. Still, too much for him. In his hazed mind, he harbored the crazy idea that pathetic fallacy should be a real thing, and there should be a hurricane to come and blow the world flat. Erase any reminder of her.

The way he saw it, he had a few best friends. There was Bruce, a new addition. He was a great guy, brilliant mind, and easy to be around. There was Pepper, who despite their ended romantic relationship, stayed at his side because there was just too much between them to throw it away. He would always love Pepper, and he let her go, but it was her decision to stay. Which was a very good thing, because he couldn't get a damn thing done without her. And there was Rhodey, who'd been his friend for years, had his back, and kicked his ass into line when he needed it.

And then there was Stephanie. Stephanie, who called him out on his shit, had a heart of gold, and contrary to what a lot of people tended to do, didn't just 'entertain' him because he was Tony Stark. She was genuinely interested in his ramblings. She didn't understand them, but she tried to adapt and learn. She wasn't cookie cutter, like she “saw a different side of him” or “changed him” or “made him a better person.” Because all of that was bullshit. No, she saw him for who he was, flaws and all. She didn't have time to change him. And that was the great thing about her. In not trying to fix him, she was so damn close to doing it.

A broken vase can only take so much glue before it's made into a different shape and can't stick. She took the broken vase and made a mosaic.

Or maybe he was just thinking bullshit because he was staring at the tiles along the bar.

“Hey buddy, I think you're done.” A hand appeared and took the glass from his hands. Tony followed the hand up an arm, a shoulder, and neck to find Lieutenant Colonel James Rhodes, staring down at him.

“Rhodey.” Tony clapped him on the arm of his clean pressed uniform. “You're looking sharp, got a date?”

Rhodey shook his head and set the glass aside. “No, Tony, I'm here for you.”

“Am I your date?”

“Ha ha.” Rhodey rolled his eyes, taking a seat on the bar stool. “Look man, I heard about what happened-”

Tony spun on his stool, swaying back and forth with his elbows on the bar behind him.“What, the magazines already got a hold of it? What's the headline, “Biggest Fuck Up Of The Century?”

“Tony.” Rhodey snapped to get his attention, his gaze firm and ready for that ass kicking he was known for. “Natasha told me.

Tony nodded, pushing his chair around again. “Right.”

“I'm sor-”

“Christ, don't start saying you're sorry. You make it sound like she's dead.” Tony groaned, rubbing his hand over his forehead. “She's not dead. She's just _**gone**_.”

“Alright.” Rhodey raised his hands in mock surrender. “I'm not your enemy here. I'm just trying to help.”

“Do you know how to stabilize a time machine?”

He shrugged. “I can take out a book on it.”

Tony laughed dryly, reaching over to pat Rhodey's shoulder in silent thanks. Letting his elbow drop back onto the cool marble surface of the counter, he cradled his head in his hands and rubbed his thumbs in circles on his temples. “I don't know, Rhodey... if I could start again, I'd say so much more than I did, y'know?”

“Oh, don't start getting all melancholy like that. You have plenty of time to pour your mechanical heart out when we get her back.” Rhodey nudged him in the side, hoping to get a friendly rise out of him. Tony did respond. With a sigh that shook his entire body, he pinched the bridge of his nose. Rhodey pursed his lips. “We'll get her back.”

“Well what if she doesn't want to come back? She's only spent a couple years here, and she always felt like an alien. She's home.”

Rhodey shrugged again, gathering Tony's whiskey glass and the bottle. “From what I heard, it doesn't sound like she hesitated stepping toward the portal.”

 

.-.-.-.-.-.

 

With the constant clinking of dishes and lively chatter, it was hard to miss home, and that was the entire point. The uniform yellow dress and white apron wasn't bad, and the regular costumers always greeted her with a smile on their faces as she picked up their plates and wiped down the counter tops. And then she was off to the next table, over and over again for her 8 hour shift. There was no time to sulk, no time to feel sorry for herself, and no time for a broken heart

Betty had gotten her the job at the dinner 2 weeks ago; just walked into her apartment, tossed the uniform and name tag on the table, and told her the apron would be waiting for her at Danny Boy's Dandy Diner. Sensing her hesitation, she had sighed, guided her to the couch, and spoke in a softer tone. “You've got a lot of issues with past and future, m'darlin'. But you're not gonna get anywhere until you face the present.”

She had always convinced herself that she could shove her way through anything, shedding baggage at the drop of a dime, but this time it wasn't that easy. She'd gotten used to the 21st Century, with it's leisurely racing pace and technology she could never get the hang of. More importantly, she'd gotten used to the people. And now she was right back where she started like nothing ever happened.

But no time to think about that. Table three had a big order and she had a reputation to keep up of never getting an order mixed up. With a bright smile at the family of eight, she passed out three chilli dogs to the boys, a salad for Mum, a steak sandwich for Dad, a two burgers for the oldest girls, and a kid's order of chicken fingers for the toddler. Cokes for everyone. “Just call me back over when you need anything, alright?” She beamed, tucking her tray under her arm much like the shield collecting dust in her closet and walked back to the kitchen. As soon as she was out of sight, she huffed and flopped ungracefully back onto a stool huddled against the wall for breaks.

“Long shift, Lil?”

Glancing up through a messy fringe, Stephanie responded to her alias. She couldn't exactly go around under the name of a dead woman. Even if most people new her as Captain America, if word got back to someone in the war, her cover would be blown. She couldn't go back to Europe, not yet anyway. So she'd given the dinner a fake name when she first came in. Lilian Marlane.

A dainty young hispanic woman stood above her in the same uniform, wild hair pulled back into their uniform updo. Stephanie smiled at her, pushing herself to her feet. “8 hours.”

She cringed. “Rough. Well, if you can stand being awake for a little while longer, we were all thinking of heading over to catch Brewster's Millions at the theatre. Coming along?”

Steph pushed herself back to her feet. “Sure, Maria. This looks like it'll be our last table for the night, so why don't you guys go ahead and lock up? I'll finish up once they're gone.”

The wait staff at Danny Boy's wasn't perfect. Sanjay's English wasn't up to par with the customers, Felix sometimes forgot their specific requests for meals, and Maria had a habit of giving rude customers too much sass. In the end, though, they were a tight knit group, and welcomed “Lilian” with open arms.

“Sounds peachy!” Maria nodded, heading into the backroom where the rest of the wait staff was playing Craps. Stephanie watched her go, her brow twitching in a frown. There was something unmistakably familiar about her, but she couldn't pick out what it was about her. Oh well, no time to dwell on it. Table three was calling her over.

 

.-.-.-.-.-.

 

Hanging up her apron and pulling her hair down from it's uniform updo, Stephanie pushed the backdoor open with her hip as she pulled tresses of blonde hair into a pony tail. The wait staff was waiting outside for her in the ally, all still in their uniforms with no care in the world to change. Dusting off her yellow dress, she flashed them a smile, and they picked themselves up off their makeshift crate chairs.

Felix, hopping down from his perch on the dumpster, threw his arm around her as the group headed out of the alley and into the bustling street. “So, Lil, Dollface-”

“Don't call me Dollface.” Stephanie snapped, shrugging his arm off and stepping ahead a few paces.

Felix frowned, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Jeepers, just trying to be friendly.”

Hooking arms with Maria and Steph, Harriet smirked over her shoulder at the over confident young man. “Nothing you do is just to be friendly, Felix.” Harriet was their red headed Maitre D', and from the first moment she'd started working there, Steph could practically feel the tension between her and Felix.

“You wound me, babe.” Felix feigned pain, his hand flying over his heart.

Sanjay elbowed him in the side. “Be polite.”

“I was!”

“Not hitting on the new girl.”

Felix rolled his eyes, mocking him under his breath. “I was making her feel at home. Dames like it when you take control like that, makes'em feel special. Dames need big, strong guys like us to protect'em.” Stephanie nearly choked trying not to scoff, while Harriet and Maria just giggled, tugging her along with their arms linked on either side.

Mid-April was always a time of glistening, damp streets and fogged streetlamps in New York City, the thawing earth melting into spring. Just years ago, it meant a time of allergies, but she supposed the serum took that away too. It seemed to take away a lot of things. Like asthma, chronic migraines,and piece of mind. Taking in a deep breath through her nose, admittedly enjoying not being sent into a sneezing fit, Stephanie lost herself in the buzz of the city. Honking horns and distant cat calls, although not singularly pleasant things, were bits of New York that, as she'd learned a month ago and 70 years later, never changed.

“Steph! Hey, Stephanie!”

But there were some things she really wished would change.

Harriet glanced behind them with a frown, catching sight of a well dressed young man jogging toward them, pushing through the stream of city dwellers. “Is he calling to us?”

Felix rolled his eyes. “Is there a Stephanie here?”

Harriet snarled at him. “It was just a ques-... Where'd Lil go?”

Without the bickering group noticing, Stephanie had slipped her arms out of Maria and Harriet's link and made her quick escape, intercepting Howard before he could reach them. She slapped her hand over his mouth, dragging him off to the side and out of the crowd despite his protesting.

Prying her hand away from his face, Howard rubbed his sore mouth. “We really have to stop meeting like this. Y'know, with the whole you hitting me thing.”

“Sorry.” Stephanie cringed, watching in the dim light as a red hand print blossomed on his skin. “But you can't just call out to me on the street like that! I'm trying to lay low, no one ever knows my real name.”

“And how was I suppose to know that?” Howard grumbled.

Stephanie paused. “....I don't know, just don't do that.”

“Alright, alright.” Howard sighed, straightening out his tweed jacket. “So what am I suppose to call you?”

“Lilian Marlane. Grew up on Long Island. Got a Mom, Dad, little sister, and a dog named Scruffy. A nice white picket fence life.” Steph explained with a tint of pride in her voice.

“Great, I love a good joke.” Howard smirked, only to receive a smack upside the head.

“Shut up. Now get lost, I'm trying to be normal.” Steph shooed him away, nudging his shoulder in the opposite direction before turning around to head back to her new friends. She only got a few steps ahead before she noticed the second shadow on the pavement ahead of her, groaning as Howard walked past and up to her co-workers. “Howard don't-”

“Nice to meet some friends of Lil!” He called cheerfully, his eyes sweeping the motley group before the settled indefinitely on Maria. His classic charming smile grew brighter. “Very nice.” He took a step towards her, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles. “And what's your name?”

Maria sent an incredulous glance to Stephanie, who just shrugged in apology. “Maria Carbonell. And you are?”

Howard dropped her hand with a slight pout. “You don't know who I am? I'm Howard Stark.” When he received no response, he attempted to dazzle her, smirking and straightening his posture. “Yes, _that_ Howard Stark.

“I'm sorry... should I know that name?”

Howard gawked down at her. “You know, Howard Stark, inventor extraordinaire, elite of Manhattan, voted New York's Most Handsome three years in a row.”

Maria nodded, clearly not buying it. “Right. And how do you know Lilian?”

Howard glanced back at Stephanie over his shoulder. “I dated her sister, Stephanie. They look so alike that I got them mixed up.”

Playing along with it as much as she didn't enjoy the thought, Stephanie stepped up. “Yeah. She broke his heart.”

“I don't remember it like that...”

Groaning rather loudly in protest, Felix drew the attention back to him, gesturing to the theatre house just down the street. “Come on, it's going to be sold out before we get there!”

“Alright, alright, don't get your panties in a twist.” Howard huffed, hooking arms with Maria as they resumed their journey, clearly inviting himself along. “So, Maria...”

Huffing at her old friend as she followed behind, Stephanie turned her eyes up to the sky, the light of the city illuminating the atmosphere and smothering any star trying to shine through. All except for one stubborn star, it seemed, whose impossibly bright light seemed far too close to be a star. Stephanie stopped immediately. It wasn't a star. Squinting her eyes to her a better look, she watched as the light on the roof of a nearby, low building grew steadily brighter, until she could get a clear sighting. A grey, metallic creature crouched above them, reading to fire its gun extension.

Falling into the familiar and comforting roll of a leader, Stephanie used her inhuman strength to launch herself at her friends. “Get down!” She screeched as she pushed them out of the way, ramming into Howard and Sanjay to start a domino effect and knock the others to the ground. A precisely aimed explosion hit the ground where they had been standing.

Not willing to waste any time, Stephanie jumped to her feet, ushering them away. “Get inside! Hide behind the concessions stand!” She barked, not a word of protest from any of them as they pushed through the screaming chaos of the surrounding crowds to get inside. The civilians fled in horror, quickly vacating the area and leaving it deserted save for the group taking cover in the theatre. The creature landed on the ground outside with an earth shaking crash, slowly rising from its crater. Taking aim, it began firing.

“Fuck, fuck, what the hell is that?!” Felix cried as blasts flew overhead. Cowering against him, Harriet opened her mouth to protest his foul mouth, only to scream as a portion of the counter a few feet down from her blew apart.

Howard held a terrified Maria close to his chest, no stranger to the heat of enemy fire despite never having been on the side lines. “Shh, I've gotcha babe. Steph, what do we do?!”

Pressing her fingers to her temples, Stephanie bit her lip. “Everyone shut up and let me think!” She ordered, immediately silencing them. Quickly taking inventory, Steph concluded that she had no shield, no soldiers, and no plan. Perfect. She couldn't go out and fight it head on while trying to protect the others at the same time, especially with no weapon.

So what did she have? Tearing apart her mind for any useful bit of information, Stephanie recalled the battle at the Baxter Building. They were hard to hit, their armour good at deflection, but easy to rip apart at the seams. They weren't sensitive to plasma, fire, or electricity. Stephanie's head snapped up. Tony could never get near them. They would run away before he could even get close enough to touch them, and the only thing she knew was completely unique to Tony's suit was...

“Hang on, I've got an idea.” Stephanie rushed, ducked out of their cover to grab a decorative magnet from the Coca-Cola fridge. Rolling back to the others, she jumped up just enough to be able to throw the magnet on the ground, watching it slid across the linoleum floor to stop at the creature's feet. It hesitated, backing up a step before firing a blast at it and taking aim at Stephanie. She quickly ducked back under the counter, a scorch mark against the wall where her head had been.

“They're sensitive to magnetic fields.” She concluded, leaning over Maria to speak to Howard. They didn't have the current technology or knowledge to make a miniature arc reactor, but they could get as close as they could. “How fast can you make an electromagnet?”

Howard smirked. “Now you're speaking my lingo. Give me five minutes.” Shaking Maria's shoulder, he flashed her a reassuring smile. “Hey babe, want to be a hero? I need you to go through these drawers and find me a flashlight, the biggest one your can find, and take out the battery. Perfectly safe. Can you do that?"

Pulling herself together, Maria sat up and nodded, crawling toward the counter drawers without another word. Watching her go for a moment, Howard pulled himself together and began making his way toward the wall to pry a nail out from behind a picture frame. Leaving them to their duties, Stephanie squeezed Howard's shoulder as she crawled past. “I'll buy you the time you need, but hurry.” She sat before leaping out, landing in a somersault to avoid a blast.

Pushing up with her hands while she was still rolling, Stephanie flipped her legs out in front of her, following the momentum with the rest of her body and landed in a crouch. Making eye contact with the creature, she sprung up and spun into a kick, catching it at the side of its head. In her lack of proper combat shoes, she felt a shock of pain shoot up her calf, but easily ignored it. The creature stumbled to the side, allowing her land and recover at the same time it did. Pulling up its arm before she could attack again, it shot at her. Steph rolled out of the way, thus continuing the same pattern until the theatre was covered in scorch marks and minor fires.

“Howard, I could really use some help!” She called back, cursing her uniform for its lack of real pants to keep her from flashing everyone every time she moved.

“I've got it!” Howard finally shouted, jumping up with Maria from behind the counter. Glancing down at her as he poised to toss it, he grinned, “Y'know, that was pretty brave of you-"

“ **Howard!”** Steph screamed in frustration as she narrowly dodged a blast, the heat trail grazing her arm.

Howard drew his arm back and threw it across the theatre lobby. Keeping an eye on it as it soared through the air, Steph jumping into a flip over a blast and caught a nail and battery skillfully connected and held together with a long strip of copper wire. The sharp end of the nail drew blood from her palm, but she paid it no mind as she landed and launched herself at the creature, throwing both of them out onto the street. Pinning it down onto the sidewalk, her hair falling in loose strands and plastering to the sweat on her forehead, Stephanie held the nail against the creature's chest plate, ready to plunge it in at any moment, rendering it helpless, but still alive.

“You're stuck here too, aren't you?!” She shouted, two weeks of pent up anger unleashing itself. “You're stuck here just as much as I am!”

The creature snickered, making her realize for the first time that they were sentient. “We are waiting...” It hissed in an inhuman whine.

Stephanie hesitated, drawing in a breath before stealing herself again. “What do you mean, you're waiting?” She growled.

“Master is still here...” It said, craning its neck as it spoke. “Master is still waiting. Kill the Captain. Then we shall return. Kill the heroes. Watch them burn.”

Stephanie's grip on the electromagnet tightened, blood from the cut on her hand dripping down onto the creature's chest plate. “Kang...” She whispered in harsh realization. If Kang was waiting to kill her here, but would return to attack her team after she was dead...

“ _...it's as if literally half of the connection is gone...”_

Reed Richard's voice echoed dimly from her memory, barely audible at the time and now somehow clear. Kang had the missing connection. Her desperation growing heated, Stephanie pressed the tip of the nail against the creature. “Where is Kang?! Tell me!” The creature opened its mouth to answer, seemingly willing to trade the secret for its life.

She didn't know if it was the whining buzz of a gun charging up, or Maria calling out to her from not far away, but Steph suddenly knew with shocked clearity it wouldn't have the chance to answer. Anticipating an attack, she rolled off the creature and out of the way, just as a blast from another creature's gun destroyed her captive. Stephanie leapt to her feet, ready to take on an army, only to be meet with silence. The distant hum of the city and approaching sirens the only sounds to fill the silence. She whirled around, trying to locate whoever had taken the shot, but not a single blast was fired.

Stephanie let the bloodied electromagnet fall dejectedly to the ground in a clatter of metal against concrete.


	7. Reaching For The Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a point in this chapter, mid sentence, where there’s a two year gap. I haven’t touched this since 2014. Can’t cope with an unfinished melody.

 

_“...it's as if literally half of the connection is gone...”_

The words continued to echoed in her mind as she stood on the broken and  burnt concrete, staring around her at the damage caused by the fight. A crowd began to form on the side walk on either side of the street whispering and pointing at her in awe and confusion. Chest heaving for breath now that the adrenaline was fading from her body, Steph found herself disoriented and overwhelmed as if she'd never seen battle before. This wasn't battle; this was something so much bigger than just her, and in the end, it really was just her. No team, no back up, no Avengers to aid her. For the first time in a very long time, Captain America felt well and truly on her own; but not without hope.

A jacket was suddenly thrown over her head, and arms around her shoulders. “Keep your head down.” Howard's voice was suddenly in her ear, muffled by the fabric, and shaking from the same after effect of danger. “Just like paparazzi, that's it.” Hastily he guided her off of the street, away from the advancing police officers and photographers. They slipped into an alley, climbing over a rusted chain link fence so they'd have enough time to lose anyone trying to follow them. It wasn't until they were a few streets away, crouching behind a dumpster, that Steph finally got the chance to catch her breath. Howard pulled his jacket off from over her head to reveal that he and Maria were all that remained.

“Where is everyone else?” She asked, dusting herself off and checking for any wounds she might not have felt yet.

“Where anyone with good sense would be; running home and forgetting this ever happened.” Howard answered as he tossed his jacket over his shoulder. He glanced over at Maria, who was still trembling and looking around them in shock and paranoia. “Hey, you okay?” He asked, sincerely.

Maria immediately shook her head. “No. I mean, I'm fine, but I am most certainly, _not_ okay. What just happened?!”

Steph sighed, limping her way over to a hose on the side of the alley in her broken heels. “Maria, forget about it. It's the best thing you can do, I promise.”

Howard nodded in agreement. “You don't want to know. _I_ don't want to know.”

Maria looked up at him in confusion. “Do you know?”

“No.”

The hose sputtered on, spitting low pressure water onto the concrete. Steph picked up the nozzle and let the water drip over the blast graze on her arm, hissing at the sting as the blood dripped down her arm and ruined her dress. “You two should get out of here, lay low.”

Howard immediately stepped up. “We're not leaving you alone out here.” He insisted stubbornly.

Steph rolled her eyes. “I'm getting the hell out of here, too. I've had enough heroinism for one night, I need to do some thinking.” She scoffed, dropping the hose back where she found it. “Take her home Howard. And I mean _straight_ home.”

Howard grinned teasingly. “What, are you going to come after me if I'm anything less than a gentleman?”

Steph shrugged. “No. She will.”

Maria laughed, the pale lack of colour on her face slowly fading back into her usual warmth. Howard and Steph exchanged a glance, both knowing they had hoped their light bantering would help her calm down. They had both seen worse battle than that, but the war had always been a distant horror in America. Howard held out his arm, letting Maria loop hers through it and stick to his side. “Well, I promise I have never been anything less than a gentleman, and I don't plan on breaking that just yet. Straight home it is.” He smiled reassuringly down at the petite woman before looking back to Steph with a nod. “Straight home for you too. Give me a ring if you need anything.” He wasn't all that worried about her, knowing fully well that she could handle herself and that his assistance was needed elsewhere.

Steph flashed a dim smile, watching Howard and Maria make their way out of the narrow alley and onto the street. She had a very distinct feeling that those two would be seeing a lot more of each other, but that was a headache for another night. Slipping out of her broken heels, she walked out onto the street and hailed a taxi, the city around her in its ever constant buzz.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

There was a way back, and now that she knew that, we biggest priority wasn't finding it on her own; it was telling Tony and the others. This was so much bigger than just her, and her resources in the 1940's were limited, she wasn't too proud to ask for help. What she needed was some way to contact the present, even if it was just one sided. She wasn't entirely sure how all of this time travel business worked, but if she could update them on what was happening to her, maybe they could help. It was a shot in the dark, but it was all she had.

“Steph, why are we out here again?” Howard complained, hands shoved into the pockets of another impeccable tweed suit. The Star Spangled Dame had called him at some ungodly hour of the morning and demanded that she meet him and Maria at the corner of 42nd and Madison Avenue. He was starting to wonder if, when he'd helped create her, he'd accidentally made her a morning person, a mistake he was regretting now.

Stephanie stood at the edge of the corner, one foot down off the sidewalk and on the street, oblivious to the cars curving around her as she stared up at the empty sky above the old townhouses. “It'll take too long to explain.” She shrugged as she stepped back onto the sidewalk to join them. “Maria, you have a camera right?”

Maria quirked her brow in confusion but nodded. “Yeah, I always have one with me.”

“Thought you might.” Steph smiled as Maria handed her the clunky machine from her bag, a distant late night with Tony floating through her mind. With the camera in hand, she tapped a nearby police officer on the shoulder and put on her brightest, girl scout smile. “Pardon me, officer! Would you mind taking a picture of my cousin and I with Mr. Stark?” She asked. The officer shrugged, taking the camera while Stephanie scampered back to Howard and Maria, nudging them to play along.

“Hey, you're the floating car guy, ain'tcha?” The officer asked as he held the camera up.

Howard sighed, holding an arm around each young lady at his sides. “Unfortunately. Smile ladies.”

“Make sure you get the street sign in the picture!” Steph interjected.

“Why?”

“I, uh, just want to remember every detail of this.” She fibbed, figuring it was believable enough. It didn't really matter as long as the photo came out right.

Without any real reason to argue, the officer shrugged and snapped the picture, the flash a spark in the blinding daylight. As soon as it was taken, Stephanie rushed forward, thanked the officer, and took the camera back, pressing it into Howard's hands.

Howard accepted the clunky machine, looking up at the street sign for its significance. “What was all that about?”

“Howard, li-” Glancing around them in paranoia, Steph quickly pulled the two of them off the street, into a dingy alley off the pavement. No windows, no fire escapes, no doors, no exit out the back. It may have been a tad overkill, this wasn’t exactly top secret information, but it was possibly her only way home. She wasn’t taking any chances. After a quick sweep, she turned back to Howard and Maria, and continued in a low voice. “Listen to me. You’re still in that mansion on the Upper East side, right?”

Howard was clearly struggling to follow. “Yeah.”

Stephanie nodded. “Good. Now, it is _vital_ that you do as I say. Alright? Take the camera, and get the photograph developed, as big as you can get it. Put it in the gaudiest, flashiest frame you can find. It has to catch the eye. Then you need to put it away in a safe with instructions that no one takes it out for 68 years. After that, it needs to be hung up somewhere people will see it. Make sure,” Stephanie paused, reaching into the pocket of her skirt, “that this is put in the picture frame, right behind the photo. No one can remove it, no one can read it. Do you understand?” In her hands was a thin white envelope, sealed with her name written across the flap.

Howard took the envelope, his expression changing from one of confusion to determination. He tucked the paper into the breast pocket of his jacket. “I don’t understand, but I’ll see that it’s done,” he vowed. “If I ask, will you tell me what all of this is for?”

“Probably not,” Stephanie replied, though her conviction only lasted a moment. “It’s… it might be my only way of getting back. Or at least getting into contact with the present… future, whatever it is, again.”

Maria frowned, looking between Stephanie and Howard. The two of them seemed to reach some sort of understanding, and curious as she was, it seemed better to stay out of it. “Right. Well,” she began, hooking her arm rather forcibly around Howard’s. “If you’re going to use my camera, I’m darn well going to supervise.”

Howard grinned down at her. “Would dream of anything else,” he said. Looking back up his Stephanie, his expression dimmed. “You’re alright if we take off?”

Stephanie bit back a knowing smile at the ‘we’ that had already formed. “I’m alright, you two stay out of trouble.”

It was a long shot. Stephanie knew that. There was no guarantee that this half baked scheme would work, but the chance alone was worth it. If nothing else, it gave her something to look forward to, some kind of day to day purpose. Stephanie watched Howard and Maria walk off before emerging from the alley herself. The empty building at the corner of 42nd and Madison stood like a ghost, broken window opening up in front of her with jagged teeth. She only paused a moment. Manhattan was throwing heat off the concrete, and it was a long walk back to Brooklyn. Buses passed her by, and the change in her pocket jingled with every step, but Stephanie walked. Too many thoughts to sort out.

By the time she made it back to her neighborhood, the sun was horizontal in the west, blasting out gold and amber against a darkening blue sky. The kids were off the streets, called inside by their mothers for dinner and reluctant baths. A few toys had been left out on the sidewalks, bicycle wheels still turning lazily on porch steps. Stephanie headed up to her apartment, politely turning down the Harrison’s offer for dinner. Though the smell of roasted chicken and potatoes had her mouth watering, she was single minded in her goal for the evening.

Stephanie kicked her shoes off and ambled her way over to the coffee table (brand new pair, she still had the box sitting by the front door). She’d written the letter she gave to Howard there earlier, and left out her pen and paper. With that task done, her mind was clear to pick up the pen again. Stephanie wrote with the TV on, the dial between channels. The screen flickered with black and white fuzz, a glow she’d come to find comforting beyond what she could describe.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Tony, miraculously, didn’t drink himself into a stupor. It was tempting at first, there was no mistaking that. There would always be that impulse in his fingers, twitching for a bottle, but – there was too much at stake at his point in his life. He’d always want it, couldn’t control that, but he found himself needing a stiff one less and less as time went on. Miraculous.

Just as miraculous as the fact that he somehow managed to stay awake through this fucking board meeting. In hindsight, it was likely also the reason his mind had drifted to alcohol in the first place. There was a decanter in the corner, and the committee chair’s voice was beginning to resemble the teacher from Charlie Brown. Just wah wah wah.

“Mr. Stark?” The grating tone broke through Tony’s reimagining of Snoopy in the Quinjet instead of a Bomber.

Tony sat up, clearing his throat. “Yeah, yeah, sounds good. Perfect.”

The committee chair narrowed his eyes from the end of the table. “I haven’t asked you anything yet.”

“Yep, well,” Tony shrugged, “ask away.” The chair beneath him creaked as he shifted, throwing his feet up on the table. He could practically hear his mother in the back of his mind chiding him, swiping the back of his head with a purse or music sheets.

It was incomprehensibly weird, being back in his old childhood home. The meeting with his mother’s charity was being held in the dinning room. A cleaning team had been working through the spring and summer to get the place presentable, but still the air was stale and dust clouded in the sun beams. It was a century or so old, as his father always said, passed down in the family from colonial days. Seemed that even back then, the Starks were unabashedly garish. The dining room alone was covered in oak paneling and gold details that had lost their shine decades ago. The table itself was over a hundred years old - and Tony had his feet on it.

The committee chair looked for a moment like he wanted to tell Tony off, but one “my house, my rules” brow lift from Tony had him reconsidering. “As I was saying, there are necessary repairs to the structure of the building, the walls are beginning to separate. After that, we suggest expanding the foyer to create an exhibit on Mrs. Stark’s photogra-“

“Photography!” Tony clapped his hands together, kicking off from the table to sit upright again. “What do you say we go on a little field trip, hm? Stretch our legs.” Without waiting for a response, Tony stood and shoved his hands into his pockets and waltzed out of the room. Behind him, he could hear an awkward shuffling of papers, quiet murmurs, before the chair’s P.A. suggested that they take a recess and continue discussions later.

Tony was down the hall before any of them left the room. It was a little easier to breathe out here, a little brighter and less stifling. Tony paused as the rounded the corner into the foyer, stretching his arms behind him before he made his way up the grand stair case. Just needed to clear his mind.

It’d been months since the incident at the Baxter Building. That was all it really boiled down to, in the end. After that first attempted connection with Stephanie, they continued to work for a few weeks before it just sort of petered out. Bruce and Reed tried, and they never _said_ outright that it was time to give up. It just happened. Finding time to work on a dead end became increasingly difficult to find, they were busy guys and – well, Tony was too.

Keeping busy helped. Gave him less time to think about everything that went wrong. The thing was, Tony had lived his entire life without Stephanie. He’d known her for a handful of years, most of which they spent bickering or fighting, alongside one another or otherwise. He remembered how to live without her in his life just fine, it wasn’t an enormous adjustment or shock. Tony could live without her. He just didn’t want to. That was the part that stung.

So, Tony worked. He buried himself in his company, his team, and projects on the side. Missions had been tame lately, mostly just chasing arms dealers and handling the occasional crisis. Some nights Tony found himself just _wanting_ a hole to open up over New York City, just to having something to punch through, swallow him up.

Tony made his way down the halls of the mansion, following the mental map he had of the place. He passed his old bedroom, the library, the piano room, his parents’ master suite- and he felt nothing. It had been years since he stepped foot in this house, but there was no nostalgia, no longing. It was peaceful, actually.

Let it be known that Tony Stark was not one for tranquil strolls or meditation on his internal state of being. That was more Steph’s thing (and look where it got her). He could never quite achieve anything resembling quiet in his mind, even when he was at peace. So, as he walked down the musty old halls, his mind was still alive, taking in details from the curtains to the doorknobs, trailing over the photographs on the wall.

“Mr. Stark?” a timid voice called from behind him. Tony stopped, turning around to find a young man approaching him from down the hall. One of the cleaning and maintenance guys, judging by the uniform.

Tony shook the mental fog from his head. “What’s up?”

“It’s been twenty minutes, and the board is reconvening. They told me to come let you know,” he replied.

Tony sighed. He’d half hoped that they’d forget about him. “Alright, tell them I’ll head down in a minute,” he said. However, as he looked back at the kid, his eyes couldn’t help but trail to the ostentatious picture frame behind him. Tony didn’t understand how he could have passed it without noticing. He frowned stepping past the young man to look at it. The frame was four times the size of the small picture inside, covered in gold vines and flowers with rubies at the centre of each one. “This wasn’t here before,” Tony pointed at the frame as he spoke to the young man.

“It was just put up this month, Mr. Stark,” he replied. “Taken out of the vaults. Your father left instructions that it be taken out this year only.”

“Why the hell…” Tony looked back to the picture. It was a small square photograph, black and white, probably from one of the first cameras his mother had. He took a step closer, trying to decipher what he could from the image. It was his mother and father, in their younger days during the war. They were standing on the street in New York with a blonde…

Christ, it was Stephanie. Standing on the corner of 4nd Street and Madison Avenue, before the Baxter Building had gone up.

Tony all but ripped the picture off the wall. “What year was this thing put in the vault?” Tony asked, his voice shaking as he flipped the frame and began undoing the fasteners.

“I-I don’t know sir,” the employee stammered, “1945 I think? I was just told to put it up.”

“That’s- fine, great, all I need thanks.” Tony opened up the back of the frame, letting it drop to the floor as he ripped the photo out. He held it in his hands a moment, just trying to catch his breath. There was nothing remarkable about it, no codes, no secret messages, nothing at all. He had been one second away from crushing disappointment when he noticed the little envelope fluttering to the ground. Tony stooped down to pick it up – only then realizing that the kid was still there. “I said thanks, you can – I don’t know, resume duties, whatever you call it.”

It was a little harsh, maybe, but it worked. Once the young man was out of sight, Tony tore the envelope open. Inside was a note, relatively short, but enough to shoot adrenaline into his veins like liquid ice.

_742B Alexander Lane, Brooklyn, New York. Look in the closet._

A grin split across Tony’s face. “Atta girl,” he muttered. Springing up to his feet, Tony stuffed the photo and note in his pocket, and raced down the hall toward the stairs. Once he’d made it down to the foyer, he pulled his phone out and pushed through the doors. “Jarvis,” he said into the microphone.

“Yes, sir?”

“I’ve got a message from Stephanie. Cancel my appointments today. All of them. Actually cancel them for the next week,” he said as he ran out onto the tree lined lane, where his limo waited on the road.

 “Done, sir. Though, I fail to see any reason to clear your schedule for the entire week.”

“No reason for that one, I just don’t want to go.”

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Tony did not frequent Brooklyn. Not out of dislike, he just never really had any reason outside of parties, but then he could rarely remember those. It was entirely different world to the jungle of Manhattan. As the limousine rolled through the streets, Tony leaned against the window and couldn’t help imagining what this place must have looked like 70 years ago. Most streets still held that mid-century charm, with the bridge looming like a stone giant in the backdrop. The limo, understandably, was out of place.

The moment the car came to a slow stop in front of the address Tony had been given, he was throwing the door open and jumping out, just narrowly missing a couple of children skateboarding past him. A little girl sat on the porch steps outside the home, her attention focused solely on her colouring book until his shadow fell on her. The girl looked up at him, her crayons dropping on to the page.

“Hi,” Tony smiled as he knelt down to her level, his balance a little awkward on the steps. “What’s your name?” She didn’t answer. “Do… you live here?

The little girl stared at him with a straight face. “Daddy says I shouldn’t talk to strangers.”

Tony cringed. “Oh, shi- I mean, I’m not… uh, is your Daddy home?” he said as he stood up. The kid was looking at him like she was going to pull a taser any second.

“Daddy’s at work.”                                                                

“Alright,” Tony groaned. “Is anyone home? A grown up I can talk to?”

The little girl seemed to consider him for a moment, before finally she turned toward the open window of the house and called inside. “Grandma!” she shouted. “There’s a man here who wants to talk to you!” With that, the girl dutifully returned to her colouring book.

A scuffling from inside was soon followed by the door opening to an elderly woman. She looked down at Tony with the a similar expression to the girl’s. “Can I help you?” she asked, her gaze flitting suspiciously between him and the limo.

Tony walked up the porch, stepping around the woman’s granddaughter. “Ma’am, my name is Tony Stark, I need-“

“Ah, I knew you looked familiar,” the woman laughed. “Old age, it plays hell with the memory. My name is Dinah Thompson. I’d assume you’re here for the Captain’s apartment?”

Tony, in a rare occurrence, found himself speechless. “How… How do you know about that?”

“I don’t, really,” Dinah replied. “I don’t know why she found it so important, but before she disappeared, Stephanie told us that it was a matter of life and death, that we could never rent out her old apartment to anyone else. When she turned up earlier this year, I thought that might be why. Some unfinished business, I’d assume?”

Tony’s stomach dropped. “Disappeared?” he swallowed hard.

“The nature of that being no one knows,” Dinah quipped.

“Right,” said Tony. He couldn’t let himself freeze up now. There was a reason Stephanie went to so much trouble to get this message to him. No use in panicking over something that happened 70 years ago- of course, that kind of logic sounded fine in theory. It didn’t stop his blood from running cold. “Well, I need into her apartment.”

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

As the door creaked open, Tony only stopped to wave away the dust, covering his mouth with the crook of his arm as he coughed. The only other person to set foot in this place in decades was Stephanie back in March, and one visit wasn’t enough to clear away the cobwebs.

Even considering the deterioration of the apartment over years of abandonment, it wasn’t much to look at. Stephanie had lived here through the Great Depression, as an orphaned teenager struggling to get by. Looking around, Tony didn’t find it hard to imagine why joining the war had been so appealing for her and so many others. At least it got them out of places like this.

Tony only allowed himself a second to look around the apartment, take it all in. Dinah’s foreboding words about Stephanie’s disappearance pushed him into action, searching around the hovel to find the closet Stephanie had spoken about. The only one there was a small linen closet between the kitchen and the bathroom, with a doorknob so rusted that Tony had to brace his foot on the wall just to pull it open.

A cloud of mothball odor assaulted Tony’s nose, forcing him into a coughing fit again. The closet was empty, aside from the top shelf, where a few blankets had been folded and shoved. Tony pulled them down and tossed them aside, not keen on finding out whether or not they were infected with dead bugs or other unpleasant surprises. The grim certainly wasn’t doing any favours. It was as he was pulling the blankets down, however, that something a little heavier came tumbling down. Tony caught the box just before it hit the ground, finding his name inscribed on the top. Heart in his throat, he carried it outside and shut the apartment door behind him. In the clearer light and air, Tony knelt on the ground and leaned against the wall, taking a moment to breathe before opening the box.

A thick stack of envelopes sat inside, undisturbed. The first had a large #1 written on the face. Tony could take a hint. He took the top envelope out first, setting the box aside as he opened it to find a letter inside in a familiar hand. Tony released a shuddering breath as he began to read.

_Tony,_

_If you’re reading this, I’ve probably just lead you on a wild goose chase through the city. Sorry, but communicating over a 70 year time gap isn’t exactly the easiest thing to do._

_I’ll cut to the chase. I think Kang is still in the 1940’s. A few days ago, I was attacked by his underlings, the same robotic creatures from the Baxter Building. One of them said that Kang is waiting to kill me here, and then will return to attack you and the team. I haven’t connected everything yet, but he must have the missing connection that Reed talked about. He has a way back._

_I’m going to find it. I don’t know how, but I will. When the time comes, I need you to have your end of the portal ready._

_Until then… I guess I’ll just write letters, status reports, something like that. Read the letters you find in this box in order. They’ll serve as time markers, if that makes any sense. Whether or not this works, I guess you’ll know from the final epistle._

_Save that dance for me. This time, I’m coming back to claim it._

_~~Cpt. Stephanie Rogers~~ _

_Steph._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest, I don’t know why I dropped this. I’ve had the entire story plotted out since I posted the first chapter. Probably just lost interest. I was going through old files and found the folder with all of my chapters and notes for this story and just figured I may as well put it out there. It’s weird coming back, though. I can barely read the first chapters. Whether or not I’ll go back and edit them, I don’t know. Still, I started this story when I was in High School, and I’m in my final year of undergrad now. I’d like to think I’ve improved a bit.
> 
>  
> 
> So, I guess I’m finishing this.


End file.
